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S. T. COLERIDGE 



WITH A MEMOIR. 



VOL. III. 




BOSTON: 
JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY, 

Late Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood, & Co. 
1871. 



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CONTENTS, 



VOL. m. 



Page 
The Picoolomixi ; or, The FiRSt Part of Wai.- 
LENSTEiN. A Drama. Translated from the Ger- 
man of Schiller 6 

The Death op Waixenstkin. A Tragedy. In Five 
Acts 197 

Notes 827 



THE PICCOLOMINI; 

OK, 

THE FIRST PART OF WALL ENSTEIN. 
A DRAJMA. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER. 



PREFACE OF THE TRANSLATOR TO THE 
FIRST EDITION. 

The two Dramas, Piccolomini, or the first part of Wal»- 
LENSTEiN, and Wallejjsteln, are introduced in the original 
manuscript by a Prelude in one Act, entitled Wallexsteij^'s 
Camp. This is written in rhyme, and in nine syllable verse, 
in the same lilting metre (if that expression may be pei-mitted) 
with the second Eclogue of Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar. 

This Prelude possesses a sort of broad humour, and is not 
deficient in character; but to have translated it into prose, or 
into any other metre than that of the original, would have 
given a false notion both of its style and purj)ort ; to have 
translated it into the same metre would have been incom- 
patible with a faithful adherence to the sense of the German, 
from the comparative poverty of our language in rhymes; 
and it would have been unadvisable from the incongruity of 
those lax verses with the present taste of the English Public. 
Schiller's intention seems to have been merely to have pre- 
pared his reader for the Tragedies by a lively picture of the 
laxity of discipline, and the mutinous dispositions of Wallen- 
stein's soldiery. It is not necessary as a preliminary explana- 
tion. For these reasons it has been thought expedient not to 
translate it. 

The admirers of Schiller, who have abstracted their con- 
ception of that author from the Robbers, and the Cabal and 
Love, plays in which the main interest is produced by the 
excitement of curiosity, and in which the curiosity is excited 
by tei'rible and extraordinary incident, will not have perused, 
without some portion of disappointment, the dramas which 
it has been my employment to translate. They should, how- 
ever, reflect tliat these are historical dramas, taken from a 
popular German history; that we must therefore judge of 



8 PKEFACE. 

them in some measure with the feelings of Germans ; or by 
analogy with the interest excited in us hy simihir dramas in 
our own language. Few, I trust, would he rash or ignorant 
enough to compare Schiller with Shukspeare ; yet, merely as 
illusti-ation, I would say that we should proceed to the perusal 
of Wallenstein, not from Lear or Othello, but from Kichard 
the Second, or the three parts of Henry the Sixth. We 
scarcely expect rapidity in an historical drama; and many 
prolix speeches are pardoned from characters whose names 
and actions liuve formed the most amusing tales of our early 
life. On the other hand, there exist in these plays more indi- 
vidual beauties, more passages the excellence of which will 
bear reflection, than in the fonner productions of Schiller. 
The description of the astrological tower,' and the reflections 
of the young lover which follow it, form in the original a 
fine poem; and my translation must have been wretched 
indeed, if it can have wholly overclouded the beauties of the 
scene in the first act of the first play between Questenberg, 
Max, and Octavio Piccolomini. If we except the scene of 
the setting sun in the Robbers, I know of no part in Schiller's 
Plays which eqnals the whole of the first scene of the fifth 
act of the concluding phi}'. It would be unbecoming in me 
to he more diffuse on this subject. A translator stands con- 
nected with the original author by a certain law of subordi- 
nation, which makes it more decorous to point out excellences 
than defects: indeed he is not likelj'- to be a fair judge of 
either. The pleasure or disgust from his own labour will 
mingle with the feelings that arise from an afterview of the 
originah Even in the first perusal of a work in any foreign 
language which we understand, we are apt to attribute to it 
more excellence than it really possesses, from our own plea- 
surable sense of difficulty overcome without efibrt. Transla- 
tion of poetry into poetry is difficult, because the translator 
must give a brilliancy to his language without that warmth 
of original conception fi-ora which such brilliancy would 
follow of its own accord. But the translator of a living 
author is encumbered with additional inconveniences. If he 
render his original faithfully, as to the sense of each passage, 
he must necess:u-ily destroy a considerable portion of the 



PREFACE. 9 

epirit; if he endeavour to give a work executed according to 
laws of compensation, he subjects himself to imputations of 
vanity, or misrepresentation. I have thought it my duty to 
remain bound by the sense of my original, with as few excep- 
tions as the nature of the languages rendered possible.* 



It was my intention to have prefixed a Life of "VVallenstein 
to this translation; but I found that it must either have occu- 
pied a space wholly disproportionate to the nature of the 
publication, or have been merely a meagre catalogue of 
events nan-ated not more fully than they already are in the 
Play itself. The recent translation, hkewise, of Schiller's 
UisTOKY OF THE THIRTY Ykars' War, diminished the mo- 
tives thereto. In the translation I endeavoured to- render my 
Autlior literulbj wherever I was not prevented by absolute 
differences of idiom ; but I am conscious, that in two or three 
short passages I have been guilty of dilating the original ; and 
from anxiety to give the full meaning, have weakened the 
force. In the metre I have availed myself of no other liber- 
ties than those which Schiller had permitted to himself, 
except the occasional breaking-up of the line by the substi- 
tution of a trochee for an iambus; of which liberty, so fre- 
quent in our tragedies, I find no instance in these dramas.f 



* Originally prefixed to the translation of the second part, 
but apparently as a general introduction. 
t Originally' prefixed to the translation of the first part. 



DRAMATIS PEKSONiE. 

Wallenstein, Duke of FHedlajvd, Generalissimo of the Im- 
perial Forces in the Tldrty Years' War. 

OcTAVio PiccoLOMiNi, Lieutenant- General. 

Max Piccolomixi, his Son, Colonel of a Regiment of Cui- 
rassiers. 

Count Tertsky, the Commander of several Regiments, ana 
Broiher-in-Law of Wallensiein. 

Illo, Field-Mai'slial, Wallenstein's Confidant. 

IsoLANi, General of the Croats. 

Butler, an Irishman, Commander of a Regiment of Dragoon*. 

TiEFENBACH, \ 

^ * "" ' > Generals under Wallenstein. 

GOETZ, I 

KOLALTO, J 

Neumann, Captain of Cavalry, Aide-de- Camp to Tertsky. 

The War Commissioner, Von Questenberg, Imperial Envc^ 

General "Wrangel, Swedish Envoy. 

Baptista Seni, Astrologer. 

Duchess of Friedland, Wfe of Wallensiein. 

TiiEKLA, her Daughter, Princess of Friedland. 

The Countess Tertsky, Sister of the Duchess. 

A Cornet. 

Several Colonels and Generals. 

Pages and Attendants, btbnging to Wallenstein. 

Attent)Ants and Hoboists belonging to Tertsky. 

The Master of the Cellar to Count Tertsky. 

Valet de Chambre of Count Ficcohmim. 



THE PICCOLOMINI. 
ACT I. 

Scene I. — An old Gothic Chamber in the Council-house at 
Pilsen, decorated with colours and other war insignia. 

Illo with Butler and Isolani. 

Jllo. Ye have come late — but ye are come! 
The distance, 
Count Isolan, excuses your delay. 

Iso. Add this too, that we come not empty 
handed. 
At Donauwert * it was reported to us, 
A Swedish caravan was on its way 
Transporting a rich cargo of provision, 
Almost six hundred waggons. This my Croats 
Plunged down upon and seized, this weighty 



prize !- 



We bring it hither 

lUo. Just in time to banquet 

The illustrious company assembled here. 

But. 'Tis all alive ! a stirring scene here ! 

Iso. Ay ! 

The very churches are all full of soldiers. 

♦ A town about twelve German miles northeast of Ulm. 



12 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

And in tlie Council-house, too, I observe, 

[Cas^s his eyp. round. 

You're settled, quite at home ! Well, well ! we 

soldiers 
Must shift and suit us in what way we can. 

lllo. We have the Colonels here of thirty regi- 
ments. 
You'll find Count Tertsky here, and Tiefenbach, 
Kolalto, Goetz, Maradas, Hinnersam, 

The Piceolomini, both son and father 

You'll meet with many an unexpected greeting 
From many an old friend and acquaintance. Only 
Gallas is wanting still, and Altringer. 

But. Expect not Gallas. 

lUo. [hesitating.'] How so? Do yon know ■ 

Iso. [interrupting him.'] Max Piceolomini 
here ? — O bring me to him. 
I see him yet, ('tis now ten years ago, 
We were engaged with Mansfeld hard by Dessau,) 
I see the youth, in my mind's eye I see him. 
Leap his black war-horse from the bridge adown, 
And toward Ids father, then in extreme })eril, 
Beat up against tlie strong tide of the Elbe. 
The down was scarce upon his chin ! I hear 
He has made good the promise of his youth, 
And the full hero now is finished in him. 

lllo. You'll see him yet ere evening. He con- 
ducts 
The Duchess Friedland hither, and the Princess 
From Kiirnthen. We expect them here at noon. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 13 

But. Botli w-ife and daughter does the Duke 
call hither ? 
He crowds in visitants from all sides. 

Iso. Hm ! 

So much the better ! I bad framed ray mind 
To hear of nought but warlike circumstance, 
Of marches, and attacks, and batteries: 
And lo ! the Duke provides, that something too 
Of gentler sort, and lovely, should be present 
To feast our ej'es. 

Illo. [loho has been standing in the attitude of 
meditation, to Butler, whom he leads a little on 
one side.'] And how came you to know 

That the Count Gallas joins us not? 

But. Because 

He importuned me to remain behind. 

Illo. [ivith warfnth.] And you ? — You hold out 
firmly ? 
[ Grasping his handivith affection.'] Noble Butler ! 

But. After the obligation which the Duke 
Had laid so newly on me 

Illo. I had forgotten 

A pleasant duty — Major General, 
I wish you joy ! 

Iso. What, you mean, of his regiment ? 

I hear, too, that to make the gift still sweeter, 
The Duke has given him the very same 
In which he first saw service, and since then. 
Worked himself, step by step, through each pre- 
ferment, 



14 THE nCCOLOMINl; 

From the ranks upwards. And verily, it gives 
A precedent of hope, a spur of action 
To the whole corps, if once in their remembrance 
An old deserving soldier makes his way. 

But, I am perplexed and doubtful, whether 
or no 
I dare accept this your congratulation. 
The Emperor has not yet confirmed the appoint- 
ment. 

Iso. Seize it, friend ! Seize it ! The hand which 
in that post 
Placed you, is strong enough to keep you there, 
Spite of the Emperor and his Ministers. 

Illo. Ay, if we would but so consider it! — 
If we would all of us consider it so ! 
The Emperor gives us nothing ; from the Duke 
Comes all — whate'er we hope, whate'er we have. 

Iso, [^oIllo.] My noble brother ! did I tell you 
how 
The Duke will satisfy my creditors ? 
Will be himself my banker for the future, 
Make me once more a creditable man ! — 
And this is now the third time, think of that I 
This kingly-minded man has rescued me 
From absolute ruin, and restored my honour. 

Illo, O that his power but kept pace with his 
wishes ! 
Why, friend ! he'd give the whole world to his 

soldiers. 
But at Vienna, brother ! — ^here's the grievance ! — 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 15 

What politic schemes do they not lay to shorten 
His arm, and, where they can, to clip his pinions. 
Then these new 4ainty requisitions ! these, 
Which this same Questenberg brings hither ! — 

But. Ay, 

These requisitions of the Emperor, — 
I too have heard about them ; but I hope 
The Duke will not draw back a single inch ! 

Illo. Not from his right most surely, unless first 
— From office ! 

But, [shocked and confused.'] Know you aught 
then ? You alarm me. 

Iso. [at the same time with Bctler, and in a 
hurried voiced] We should be ruined, every one 
of us ! 

Illo. No more ! 

Yonder I see our worthy friend * approachmg 
With the Lieutenant-General, Piccolomini. 

But. [shaking his head signifcantly.'] I fear we 
shall not go hence as we came. 

Scene II. — Enter Oct avio Piccolomini and Questen- 
berg. 

Oct. [still in the distance.] Ay, ay ! more still ! 
Still more new visitors ! 
Acknowledge, friend ! that never was a camp. 
Which held at once so many heads of heroes. 

[Approaching nearer 
Welcome, Count Isolani ! 

* Spoken with a sneer. 



16 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

Iso. My noble brother, 

Even now am I arrived ; it had been else my 
duty— 
Oct. And Colonel Butler — trust me I re- 
joice 
Tims to renew acquaintance with a man 
AV^hose worth and services I know and honour. 
Bee, see, my friend ! 

Thei-e might we place at once before our eyes 
The sum of war's whole trade and mystery — 
[7b QuESTENBERG, presenting Butler and Isolani at 
the same time to him. 

These two the total sum — Strength and Dis- 
patch. 
Ques. [to OcTAvio.] And lo! betwixt them 

both experienced Prudence ! 
Oct. [presenting Questenberg to Butler 
cmd IsoLANi.j The Chamberlain and War-com- 
missioner Questenberg, 
The bearer of the Emperor's behests, 
The long-tried friend and patron of all soldiers, 
We honour in this noble visitor. 

[ Universal silence. 
Illo. [moving towards Questenberg.] 'Tis 
not the first time, noble Minister, 
You have shown our camp this honour. 

Ques. Once before 

I stood before these colours. 

Illo. Perchance, too, you remember where that 
was. 



OR, THE FIRST TART OF T7ALLENSTEIN. 17 

It was at Znaim * in Moravia, wliere 
You did present yourself on the part 
Of the Emperor, to supplicate our Duke 
That he would straight assume the chief command. 

Qucs. To supplicate ? Nay, noble General ! 
So far extended neither my commission 
(At least to my own knowledge) nor my zeal. 

Illo. Well, well, then — to compel him, if you 
choose. 
I can remember me right well. Count Tilly 
Had suffered total rout opon the Lech. 
Bavaria lay all open to the enemy, 
AVhom there was nothing to delay from pressing 
Onwards into the very heart of Austria. 
At that time you and Werdenberg appeared 
Before our General, storming him with prayers, 
And menacing the Emperor's displeasure. 
Unless he took compassion on this wretchedness. 

Iso. [^steps up to them.'] Yes, yes, '"tis compre- 
hensible enough, 
Wherefore, with your commission of to-day, 
You were not all too willing to remember 
Your former one. 

Ques. Why not. Count Isolan ? 

No contradiction sure exists between them. 
It was the urgent business of that time 
To snatch Bavaria from her enemy's hand ; 

* A town not far from the Mine-mountains, on the high 
road from Vienna to Prague. 
VOL. III. 2 



18 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

And my commission of to-day instructs me 

To free her from her good friends and protectors. 

Illo. A worthy office ! After with our blood 
We have wrested this Bohemia from the Saxon, 
To be swept out of it is all our thanks, 
The sole reward of all our hard-won victories. 

Ques. Unless that wretched land be doomed to 
suffer 
Only a change of evils, it must be 
Freed from the scourge alike of friend and foe. 

Illo. AVhat ? 'twas a favourable year ; the boors 
Can answer fresh demands already. 

Ques. Nay, 

1^ you discourse of herds and meadow-grounds — 

Iso. The war maintains the war. Are the 
boors ruined, 
The Emperor gains so many more new soldiers. 

Ques. And is the poorer by even so many sub 
jects. 

Iso. Poh ! we are all his subjects. [one fill 

Ques. Yet with a difference. General ! The 
With profitable industry the purse. 
The others are well skilled to empty it. 
The sword has made the Emperor poor : the plow 
Must re-invigorate his resources. 

iso. Sure ! 

Times are not yet so bad. Methinks I see 

[Examining with his eye the dress and ornaments of 

QUESTENBERG. 

Good store of gold that still remains uncoined. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 19 

Qucs. Thank Heaven ! that means have been 

found out to hide 
Some little from the fingers of the Croats. 

Illo. There ! the Slawata and the Martinitz, 
On whom the Emperor heaps his gifts and graces, 
'J'o the heart-burning of all good Bohemians — 
Those minions of court favour, those court harpies, 
Who fatten on the wrecks of citizens 
Driven from their house and home — who reap no 

harvests 
Save in the general calamity — 
Who now, with kingly pomp, insult and mock 
The desolation of their country — these, 
Let these, and such as these, support the war. 
The fatal war, which they alone enkindled ! 
But. And those state-parasites, who have their 

feet 
So constantly beneath the Emperor's table, 
W^ho cannot let a benefice fall, but they 
Snap at it with dog's hunger — they, forsooth. 
Would pare the soldier's bread, and cross his 

reckoning ! 
Iso. My life long will it anger me to think, 
How when I went to court seven years ago. 
To see about new horses for our regiment. 
How from one antechamber to another 
Tiiey dragged me on, and left me by the hour 
To kick my heels among a crowd of simpering 
Feast-fattened slaves, as if I had come thither 
A mendicant suitor for the crumbs of favour 



20 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

That fall beneath their tables. And, at last, 
Whom should they send me but a Capuchin ! 
Straight I began to muster up my sins 
For absolution — but no such luck for me ! 
This was the man, this Capuchin, with whom 
I was to treat concerning the army horses : 
And I was forced at last to quit the field, 
The business unaccomplished. Afterwards 
The Duke procured me in three days, what I 
Could not obtaiu in thirty at Vienna. 

Ques. Yes, yes ! your travelling bills soon 

found their way to us : 
Too well I know we have still accounts to settle. 
Illo. War is a violent trade : one cannot always 
Finish one's work by soft means : every trifle 
Must not be blackened into sacrilege. 
If we should wait till you, in solemn council, 
With due deliberation had selected 
The smallest out of four-and twenty evils, 
I'faith Ave should wait long. — 
" Dash ! and through with it ! " — That's the better 

watch-word. [nature 

Then after, come what may come. 'Tis man's 
To make the best of a bad thing once past. 
A bitter and perplexed " what shall I do ? " 
Is worse to man than worst necessity. 

Ques. Ay, doubtless, it is true ; the Duke does 

spare us 
The troublesome task of choosing. 

But Yes, the Duke 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTElN. 21 

Cares with a father's feelings for his troops ; 
But how the Emperor feels for us, we see. 

Ques. His cares and feelings all ranks share 
alike, 
Nor will he offer one up to another. 

Iso. And therefore thrusts he us into the de- 
serts 
As beasts of prey, that so he may preserve 
His dear sheep fattening in his fields at home. 
Ques. [_'wtth a sneer.~\ Count, this comparison 

you make, not I. 
But. Why, were we all the Court supposes us, 
'Twere dangerous, sure, to give us liberty. 

Ques. You have taken liberty — it was not given 
you. 
And therefore it becomes an urgent duty 
To rein it in with curbs. 

Oct. [interposing and addressing Questen- 
BERG.] My noble friend. 
This is no more than a remembrancing 
That you are now in camp, and among warriors. 
The soldier's boldness constitutes his freedom. 
Could he act daringly, unless he dared 
Talk even so ? One runs into the other. 
The boldness of this worthy officer, 

[Pointing to Butleb. 

^yhich now has but mistaken in its mark. 
Preserved, when nought but boldness could pre- 
serve it, 
To the Emperor his capital city, Prague, 



22 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

In a most formidable mutiny 

Of tlie whole garrison. [Military vmsic at a distance. 

Hall ! here they come ! 

lllo. The sentries are saluting them : this signal 
Announces the arrival of the Duchess. 

Oct. [to QuESTENBERG.] Then my son Mux 
too has returned. 'Twas he 
Fetched and attended them from Kiirnthen hither. 
Iso. [to Illo.] Shall we not go in company to 

greet them ? 
lllo. Well, let us go. — Ho! Colonel Butler, 
come. [To Octavio. 

You will not forget, that yet ere noon we meet 
The noble Envoy at the General's palace. 

[Exeunt all but Questenberg and Octavio. 

Scene III. — Questenberg and Octavio. 
Ques. [toitli signs of aversion and astonishment. ~\ 
What have I not been forced to hear, Octavio ! 
What sentiments ! what fierce, uncurbed defiance ! 
And were this spirit universal — 

Oct. Ilm ! 

You are now acquainted with three fourths of the 
army. 
Ques. Where must we seek then for a second 
host 
Tc have the custody of this ? That lllo 
Thinks worse, I fear me, than he speaks. And then 
This Butler, too, — he cannot even conceal 
The passionate workings of his ill intentions. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 23 

Oct. Quickness of temper — irritated pride ; 
'Twas nothing more. I cannot give up Butler. 
I know a spell that will soon dispossess 
The evil spirit in Jiim. 

Ques.' [ivalhing up and down in evident dis- 
quiet.'] Friend, friend ! 
O ! this is worse, far worse, than we had suffered 
Ourselves to dream of at Vienna. There 
We saw it only with a courtier's eyes, 
Eyes dazzled by the splendour of the throne. 
We had not seen the war-chief, the commander. 
The man all-powerful in his camp. Here, here, 
'Tis quite another thing. 

Here is no Emperor more — the Duke is Emperor. 
Alas, my friend ! alas, my noble friend ! 
This walk which you have ta'en me through the 

camp 
Strikes my hopes prostrate. 

Oct. Now you see yourself 

Of what a perilous kind the office is, 
Which you deliver to me from the Court. 
The least suspicion of the General 
Costs me my freedom and my life, and would 
But hasten his most desperate enterprise. 

Ques. Where was our reason sleeping when we 
trusted 
This madman with the sword, and placed such 

power 
In such a hand ? I tell you he'll refuse, 
Flatly refuse, to obey tlie Imperial orders. 



24 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

Friend, he can do't, and what he can, he will. 
And then the impunity of his defiance — 
O ! what a proclamation of our weakness ! 

Oct. D'ye think, too, he has brought his wife 
and daughter 
Without a purpose hither ? Here in camp ! 
And at the very point of time, in which 
We're arming for the war ? That he has taken 
These, the last pledges of his loyalty, 
Away from out the Emperor's domains — 
This is no doubtful token of the nearness 
Of some eruption ! 

Ques. How shall we hold footing 

Beneath this tempest, which collects itself 
And threats us from all quarters ? The enemy 
Of the empire on our borders, now already 
The master of the Danube, and still farther, 
And farther still, extending eveiy hour ! 
In our interior tlie alarum-bells 

Of insurrection — peasantry in arms • 

All orders discontented — and tlie army, 
Just in the moment of our expectation 
Of aidance from it — lo ! this very array 
Seduced, run wild, lost to all discipline. 
Loosened, and rent asunder from the state 
And from their sov'reign, the blind instrument 
Of the most daring of mankind, a Aveapon 
Of fearful power, which at his will he wields ! 

Oct. Nay, nay, friend ! let us not despair too 
soon, 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 25 

Men's words are ever bolder than their deeds : 
And many a resolute, who now appears 
Made up to all extremes, will, on a sudden, 
Find in his breast a heart he knew not of. 
Let but a single honest man speak out 
The true name of his crime ! Remember, too, 
We stand not yet so wholly unprotected. 
Counts Altringer and Gallas have maintained 
Their little army faithful to its duty. 
And daily it becomes more numerous. 
Nor can he take us by surprise : you know, 
I hold him all encompassed by my listeners. 
Whate'er he does, is mine, even while 'tis doing — ■ 
No step so small, but instantly I hear it. 
Yea, his own mouth discloses it. 

Ques. 'Tis quite 

Incomprehensible, that he detects not 
The foe so near ! 

Oct. Beware, you do not think, 

That I by lying arts, and complaisant 
Hypocrisy, have skulk'd into his graces ; 
Or with the sustenance of smooth professions 
Nourish his all-confiding friendship ! No — 
Compelled alike by prudence, and that duty 
Which we all owe our country, and our sovereign. 
To hide my genuine feelings from him. yet 
Ne'er have I duped him with base counterfeits! 

Ques. It is the visible ordinance of heaven. 

Oct. I know not what it is that so attracts 
And links him both to me and to my son. 



26 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

Comrades and friends we always were — long habit, 

Adventurous deeds performed in company, 

And all tliose many and various incidents 

Which store a soldier's memory with affections, 

Had bound us long and early to each other — 

Yet I can name the day, when all at once 

His heart rose on me, and his confidence 

Shot out in sudden growth. It was the morning 

Before the memorable fight at Liitzen. 

Urged by an ugly dream, I sought him out, 

To press him to accept another charger. 

At distance from the tents, beneath a tree, 

I found him in a sleep. When I had waked him, 

And had related all my bodings to him, 

Long time he stared upon me, like a man 

Astounded ; thereon fell upon my neck. 

And manifested to me an emotion 

That far outstripped the worth of that small service. 

Since then his confidence has followed me 

Witli the same pace that mine has fled from him. 

Ques. You lead your son into the secret ? 

Oct. No ! 

Ques. What? and not warn him either what 
bad hands 
His lot has j^laced him in ? 

Oct. I must perforce 

Leave him in wardship to his innocence. 
His young and open soul — dissimulation 
Is foreign to its habits ! Ignorance 
Alone can keep alive the cheerful air. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIX. 27 

The unembarrassed sense and light free spirit, 
That make the Duke secure. 

Ques. [anxiously.~\ My honoured friend ! most 
highly do I deem 

Of Colonel Piccolomini — yet — if 

Reflect a little 

Oct. I must venture it. 

Hush ! — There he comes 1 

Scene IV. — Max Piccolomini, Octavio Piccolo- 
mini, QUESTENBERO. 

Max. Ha ! there he is himself. Welcome, my 
fiither ! 
[iJe embraces hisfatha'. As he turns round he observes 
QuESTENBERG, and draws hack with a cold and 
reserved air. 

You are engaged, I see. I'll not disturb you. 

Oct. How Max ? Look closer at this visitor ; 
Attention, Max, an old friend merits — Reverence 
Belongs of right to the envoy of your sov'reign. 

3Iax. [f/nV?/.] Von Questenberg! — Welcome — ■ 
if you bring with you 
Aught good to our head-quarters. 

Ques. [^seizing Ms hand.'] Nay, di-aw not 
Your hand away. Count Piccolomini ! 
Not on mine own account alone I seized it. 
And nothing common will I say therewith. 

[ Takin<j the hands of botk. 
Octavio — Max Piccolomini ! 
saviour names, and full of happy omen ! 



28 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

Ne'er will her prosperous genius turn from Austria, 
While two such stars, with blessed influences 
Beaming protection, shine above her hosts. 

Max. Hey ! — Noble minister ! You miss your 
part. 
You came not here to act a panegyric. 
You're sent, I know, to find fault and to scold us — 
I must not be beforehand with my comrades. 
Oct. \to Max.] He comes from court, where 
people are not quite 
So well contented with the Duke, as here. 

3fax. What now have they contrived to find out 
in him ? 
That he alone determines for himself 
What he himself alone doth understand ? 
Well, therein he does right, and will persist in't. 
Heaven never meant him for that passive thing 
That can be struck and hammered out to suit 
Another's taste and fancy. He'll not dance 
To every tune of every minister. 
It goes against his nature — he can't do it. 
He is possessed by a commanding spirit, 
And his too is the station of command. 
And well for us it is so ! There exist 
Few fit to rule themselves, but few that use 
Their intellects intelligently. — Then 
Well for the whole, if there be found a man. 
Who makes himself what nature destined him, 
The pause, the central point to thousand thous- 
ands — 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 29 

Stands fixed and stately, like a firm-built column, 
Where all may press with joy and confidence. 
Now such a man is Wallenstein ; and if 
Another better suits the Court — no other 
But such a one as he can serve the army. 

Ques. The army ? Doubtless ! 

OcL \_aside to Questenberg.] Hush ! suppress 
it, friend ! 
Unless some end were answered by the utterance. — 
Of Jiim there you'll make nothing. 

3Iax. In their distress 

They call a spirit up, and when he comes, 
Straight their flesh creeps and quivers, and they 

dread him 
More than the ills for which they called him up. 
The uncommon, the sublime, must seem and be 
Like things of every day. — But in the field, 
Ay, there the Present Being makes itself felt. 
The personal must command, the actual eye 
Examine. If to be the chieftain asks 
All that is great in nature, let it be 
Likewise his privilege to move and act 
In all the correspondences of greatness. 
The oracle within him, that which lives, 
He must invoke and question — not dead books. 
Not ordinances, not mould-rotted papers. 

Oct. My son ! of those old narrow ordinances 
Let us not hold too lightly. They are weights 
Of priceless value, which oppressed mankind 
Tied to the volatile will of their oppressors. 



30 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

For always formidable was the league 
And partnership of free power with free will. 
The way of ancient ordinance, though it winds, 
Is yet no devious way. Straight forward goes 
The lightning's path, and straight the fearful path 
Of the cannon-ball. Direct it flies and rapid, 
Shattering that it may reach, and shattering what 

it r(!aches. 
My son ! the road, the human being travels, 
That, on which blessing comes and goes, doth 

follow 
The river's course, the valley's playful windings. 
Curves round the corn-field and the hill of vines, 
Honouring the holy bounds of property ! 
And thus secure, though late, leads to its end. 
Ques. hear your father, noble youth ! hear 

him 
Who is at once the hero and the man. 

Oct. My son, the nursling of the camp spoke in 

thee ! 
A war of fifteen years 
Hath been thy education and thy school. 
Peace hast thou never witnessed ! There exists 
A higher than the warrior's excellence. 
In war itself war is no ultimate purpose. 
The vast and sudden deeds of violence, 
Adventures wild, and wonders of the moment, 
These are not they, ray son, that generate 
The Calm, the Blissful, and the enduring Mighty! 
Lo there ! the soldier, rapid architect ! 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 31 

Builds his light town of canvas, and at once 
The whole scene moves and bustles momently, 
With arms and neighing steeds, and mirth and 

quarrel. 
The motley market fills ; the roads, the streams 
Are crowded with new freights, trade stirs and 

hurries ! 
But on some morrow morn, all suddenly, 
The tents drop down, the horde renews its march. 
Dreary, and solitary as a church-yard 
The meadow and down-trodden seed-plot lie, 
And the year's harvest is gone utterly. 

3fax. O let the Emperor make peace, my father ! 
Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurel 
For the first violet of the leafless spring. 
Plucked in those quiet fields where I have jour- 
neyed 1 
Oct. What ails thee ? What so moves thee all 

at once ? 
Max. Peace have I ne'er beheld ? I have be- 
held it. 
From thence am I come hither : ! that sight, 
It glimmers still before me, like some landscape 
Left in the distance, — some delicious landscape ! 
My road conducted me through countries where 
The war has not yet reached. Life, life, my 

father — 
My venerable father, life has charms 
Which we have ne'er experienced. We have 
been ' 



32 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

But vojaging along its barren coasts, 
Like some poor ever-roaming horde of pirates, 
That, crowded in the rank and narrow ship. 
House on the wild sea with wild usages, 
Nor know aught of the main land but the bays 
"Where safeliest thej may venture a thieves' land- 
ing. 
Whate'er in the inland dales the land conceals 
Of fair and exquisite, O ! nothing, nothing, 
Do we behold of that in our rude voyage. 

Oct. [^attentive with an appearance of imeasi- 
ness.~\ And so your journey has reveal- 
ed this to you ? 
Max. 'Twas the first leisure of my life. O 
tell me, 
What is the meed and purpose of the toil. 
The painful toil, which robbed me of my youth. 
Left me a heart luisouled and solitary, 
A spirit uninformed, unornamented. 
For the camp's stir and crowd and ceaseless larum. 
The neighing war-horse, the air-shattering trumpet, 
The unvaried, still returning hour of duty. 
Word of command, and exercise of arms — 
There's nothing here, there's nothing in all this 
To satisfy the heart, the gasping heart ! 
Mere bustling nothingness, where the soul is not — 
This cannot be the sole felicity. 
These cannot be man's best and only pleasures. 
Oct. Much hast thou learnt, my son, in this 
short journey. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 33 

3fax, I day thrice lovely ! wlieu at length 
the soldier 

Returns home into life ; when he becomes 

A fellow-man among his fellow-men. 

The colours are unfurled, the cavalcade 

Marshals, and now the buzz is hushed, and 
hark ! 

Now the soft peace-march beats, home, brothers, 
home ! 

The caps and helmets are all garlanded 

With green boughs, the last plundering of the 
fields. 

The city gates fly open of themselves. 

They need no longer the petard to tear them. 

The ramparts are all filled with men and women, 

With peaceful men and women, that send on- 
wards 

Kisses and welcomings upon the air, 

Which they make breezy with affectionate ges- 
tures. 

From all the towers rings out the merry peal, 

The joyous vespers of a bloody day. 

O happy man, O fortunate ! for whom 

The well-known door, the faithful arms are 
open, 

The faithful tender arms with mute embracing. 
Ques. [apparently much affected.'] O ! that you 
should speak 

Of such a distant, distant time, and not 

Of the to-morrow, not of this to-day. 

VOL. III. 3 



34 THE nCCOLOMINI; 

Max. \turmng round to Mm quick and vehe- 
ment. Where lies the fault but on you 
in Vienna ? 
I will deal openly with you, Questenberg. 
Just now, as first I saw you standing here, 
(I'll own it to you freely,) indignation 
Crowded and pressed my inmost soul together. 
'Tis ye that hinder peace, ye I — and the warrior, 
It is the warrior that must force it from you. 
Ye fret the General's life out, blacken him. 
Hold him up as a rebel, and Heaven knows 
What else still worse, because he spares the 

Saxons, 
And tries to awaken confidence in the enemy ; 
Which yet's the only way to peace : for if 
War intermit not during war, how then 

And whence can peace come ? ^Your own 

plagues fall on you ! 
Even as I love what's virtuous, hate I you. 
And here make I this vow, here pledge myself; 
My blood shall spurt out for this Wallenstein, 
And my heart drain off, drop by drop, ere ye 
Shall revel and dance jubilee o'er his ruin. \Exit 

Scene V. — Questenberg, Octavio Piccolomini. 

Ques. Alas, alas ! and stands it so ? 

\Tken in pressing and impatient tonea. 
What, friend ! and do we let him go away 
In this delusion — let him go away ? 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 35 

Not call him back immediately, not open 
His eyes upon the spot ? 

Oct. [recovering himself out of a deep study.'] 
He has now opened mine, 
And I see more than pleases me. 

Qties. What is it ? 

Oct. Curse on this journey ! 
Ques. But why so ? What is it ? 

Oct. Come, come along, friend ! I must follow up 
The ominous track immediately. Mine eyes 
Are opened now, and I must use them. Come ! 
[Draws Questenberg on with him. 
Ques. What now ? Where go you then ? 
Oct. To her herself. 

Ques. To 

Oct. [interrupting him and correcting himself] 
To the Duke. Come, let us go — 'Tis done, 
'tis done, 
I see the net that is thrown over him. 

! he returns not to me as he went. 
Ques. Nay, but explain yourself. 

Oct. And that I should not 

Foresee it, not prevent this journey ! Wherefore 
Did I keep it from him ? — You were in the right. 

1 should have warned him ! Now it is too late. 

Ques. But what's too late ? Bethink yourself, 
my friend. 
That you are talking absolute riddles to me. 
Oct. [more collected.'] Come ! — to the Duke's. 
'Tis close upon the hour 



36 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

Whicli he appointed you for audience. Come ! 
A curse, a tlireefold curse, upon this journey ! 

[He leads Questenberg off". 

Scene VI. — CImnges to a spacious chamber in the house of 
the Duke op Friedland. — Servants employed in 
putting the tables and chairs in order. During this enters 
Seni, like an old Italian doctor, in Hack, and clothed 
somewhat fantastically. He carries a white staff, ivith 
which he marks out the quarters of the heaven. 

1st Ser. Come — to it, lads, to it ! Make an end 
of it. I hear the sentry call out, " Stand to your 
arms ! " They will be there in a minute. 

2d. Ser. Why were we not told before that the 
audience would be held here ? Nothing prepared — 
no orders — no instructions — 

3d. Ser. Ay, and why was the balcony-chamber 
countermanded, that with the great worked carpet ? 
— there one can look about one. 

Is^. Ser. Nay, that you must ask the mathema- 
tician there. He says it is an unlucky chamber. 

2d. Ser. Poh ! stuff and nonsense ! That's what 
I call a hum. A chamber is a chamber ; what 
much can the place signify in the affair ? 

/&m. [^loith gravity.'] My son, there's nothing 
insignificant, 
Nothing! But yet in every earthly thing 
First and most principal is place and time. 

1st. Ser. [to the second.'] Say nothing to him, 
Nat. 
The Duke himself must let him have his own will. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 37 

Sent, \_counts the chairs, half in a loud, half in a 

low voice, till he comes to eleven, which he repeats.'] 

Eleven ! an evil number ! Set twelve 

chairs. 

Twelve ! twelve signs hath the zodiac : five and 

seven, 
The holj numbers, include themselves in twelve. 
2d. Ser. And what may you have to object 
against eleven ? I should like to know that now. 
Seni. Eleven is — transgression ; eleven over- 
steps 
The ten commandments. 

2d. Ser. That's good ! and why do you call five 
a holy number ? 

Se?ii. Five is the soul of man : for even as man 
Is mingled up of good and evil, so 
The five is the first number that's made up 
Of even and odd. 

2d. Ser. The foolish old coxcomb ! 
Is^. Ser. Ey ! let him alone though. I like to 
hear him ; there is more in his words than can be 
Been at first sight. 

3d. Ser. Off, they come. 
2d. Ser. There ! Out at the side-door. 
[They hm-y off. Seni follows sloidy. A Page brings 
the staff of command on a red cushion, and places it 
on the table near the Duke's chair. They are an- 
nounced from without, and the wings of the door fly 
open. 



38 THE PICCOLOMINI , 

Scene VII. — Wallenstein, Duchess. 
WaL You went then through Vienna, were 
presented 
To the Queen of Hungary? 

Duch. Yes, and to the Empress too, 

And by both Majesties were we admitted 
To kiss the hand. 

Wal. And how was it received, 

That I had sent for wife and daughter hither 
To the camp, in winter time ? 

Duch. I did even that 

"Which you commissioned me to do. I told them, 
You had determined on our daughter's marriage. 
And wished, ere yet you went into the field. 
To show the elected husband his betrothed. 

Wal. And did they guess the choice which I had 
made? 

Ditch. They only hoped and wished it may have 
fallen 
Upon no foreign nor yet Lutheran noble. 

Wal. And you — what do you wish, Elizabeth ? 

Duch. Your will, you know, was always mine. 

Wal. [after a pause. ^ Well then, 

And in all else, of what kind and complexion 
Was your reception at the Court ? 
[The Duchess casts her eyes on the ground and remains silent. 
Hide nothing from me. How were you received ? 

Duch. I my dear lord, all is not what it was. 
A canker worm, my lord, a cankerworm 
Has stolen into the bud. 



OK, THE FIRST PART 0/ WALLENSTEIN. 39 

Wal. Ay ! is it so ! 

What, they were lax ? they failed of the old 
respect ? 

Duck. Not of respect. No honours were omitted. 
No outward courtesy ; but in the place 
Of condescending, confidential kindness. 
Familiar and endearing, there were given me 
Only these honours and that solemn courtesy. 
Ah ! and the tenderness which was put on, 
It was the guise of pity, not of fixvour. 
No ! Albrecht's wife, Duke Albrecht's princely 

wife. 
Count Harrach's noble daughter, should not so — 
Not wholly so should she have been received. 

Wal. Yes, yes ; they have ta'en offence. My 
latest conduct. 
They railed at it, no doubt. 

JJuch. that they had ! 

I have been long accustomed to defend you. 
To heal and pacify distempered spirits. 
No; no one railed at you. They wrapped them 

up, 
O Heaven 1 in such oppressive, solemn silence ! — 
Here is no every-day misunderstanding. 
No transient pique, no cloud that passes over ; 
Something most luckless, most unhealable. 
Has taken place. The Queen of Hungary 
Used formerly to call me her dear aunt. 
And ever at departure to embrace me — 

Wal. Now she omitted it ? 



40 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

Duch. [wiping away her tears, after a ■pause.'] 
She did embrace me, 
But then first when I had already taken 
My formal leave, and when the door already 
Had closed upon me, then did she come out 
In haste, as she had suddenly bethought herself, 
And pressed me to her bosom, more with anguish 
Than tenderness. 

Wal. \_seizes her hand soothingly.] Nay, now 
collect yourself, 
And what of Eggenberg and Lichtenstein, 
And of our other friends there ? 

Duch. [shaking her head.] I saw none. 

Wal. Th' Ambassador from Spain, who once 
was wont 
To plead so warmly for me ? — 

Duch. Silent, silent ! 

Wal. These suns then are eclipsed for us. 
Henceforward 
Must we roll on, our own fire, our OAvn light. 

Duch. And were it — were it, my dear lord, in 
that 
Which moved about the Court in buzz and whisper, 
But in the country let itself be heard 
Aloud — in that which Father Lamormain 
In sundry hints and 

Wal. [eagerly.] Lamormain ' what said he ? 

Duch. That you're accused of having daringly 
O'erstepped the powers intrusted to you, charged 
With traitorous contempt of th' Emperor 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 41 

And his supreme behests. The proud Bavarian, 
He and the Spaniards stand up your accusers — 
That there's a storm collecting over you 
Of far more fearful menace than that former one 
Which whirled you headlong down at Regenspurg. 

And people talk, said he, of Ah ! — 

[Stijling extreme emotion. 

Wal Proceed ! 

Duch. I cannot utter it ! 

Wal. Proceed ! 

Buck. They talk 

Wal. Well! 

Duch. Of a second 

\^Catches her voice and hesitates. 

Wal. Second 

Duch. More disgraceful 
Dismission. 



Wal. Talk they? 

\Strides across the room in vehement agitation. 
! they force, they thrust me 
With violence, against my own will, onward ! 
Duch. Impresses near to him, in entreaty.'] O ! 
if there yefe be time, my husband ! if 
By giving way and by submission, this 
Can be averted — my dear lord, give way ! 
Win down your proud heart to it I Tell that 

heart. 
It is your sovereign lord, your Emperor 
Before whom you retreat. ! let no longer 



42 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

Low tricking malice blacken your good meaning 
With abhorred venomous glosses. Stand you up 
Shielded and helmed and weaponed with the truth, 
And drive before you into uttermost shame 
These slanderous liars ! Few firm friends have 

we — 
You know it ! — the swift growth of our good fortune 
It hath but set us up, a mark for hatred. 
What are we, if the sovereign's grace and favour 
Stand not before us ? 



Scene VIII. — Enter the Countess Tertsky, leading 
in her hand the Princess Thekla, ridily adorned 
with hriUiants. Countess, Thekla, Wallenstein, 
Duchess. 

Coun. How, sister ? What already upon bu- 
smess, 

[Observing the countenance of the Duchess. 

And business of no pleasing kind I see, 
Ere he has gladdened at his child. The first 
Moment belongs to joy. Plere, Friedland ! father ! 
This is thy daughter. 

Thekla approaches with a slnj and timid air, and bends 
herself as about to kiss his hand. lie receives her in 
his arms, and remains standing for some time lost in 
the feeling of her presence. 

Wat. Yes ! pure and lovely hath hope risen on 
me : 
I take her as the pledge of greater fortune. 



OR, THE FIRST TART OF WALLENSTEIN. 43 

Duck. 'Twas but a little child when you de- 
parted 
To raise up that great army for the Emperor : 
And after, at the close of the campaign, 
When you returned home out of Pomerania, 
Your daughter was already in the convent. 
Wherein she has remained till now. 

Wal The while 

We in the field here gave our cares and toils 
To make her great, and fight her a free way 
To the loftiest earthly good ; lo ! mother Nature 
Within the peaceful silent convent walls 
Has done her part, and out of her free grace 
Hath she bestowed on the beloved child 
The godlike ; and now leads her thus adorned 
To meet her splendid fortune, and my hope. 
Duck, [to Thekla.] Thou wouldst not have 
recognized thy father, 
Wouldst thou, my child ? She counted scarce 

eight years, 
When last she saw your face. 

Thek. O yes, yes, mother \ 

At the first glance ! — My father is not altered. 
The form that stands before me, falsifies 
No feature of the image that hath lived 
So long within me ! 

Wal. The voice of my child ! 

[Then after a pause, 
I was indignant at my destiny 
That it denied me a man-child, to be 



44 THE PICCOLOMINl ; 

Heir of my name and of my prosperous fortune, 

And re-illume my soon extinguished being, 

In a proud line of princes. 

I wronged my destiny. Here upon this bead 

So lovely in its maiden bloom will I 

Let fall the garland of a life of war, 

Nor deem it lost, if only I can wreathe it 

Transmitted to a regal ornament, 

Around these beauteous brows. 

[He clasps her in his arms, as Piccolomini enters. 



Scene IX. — EnterMAX Vicco'LOyusi and some time after 
Count Tektskt, the others remaining as before. 

• Ooun. There comes the Paladin who protect- 
ed us. 
Wal. Max ! Welcome, ever welcome ! Always 
wert thou 
The morning star of my best joys ! 

Max. My General 

WaL 'Till now it was the Emperor who reward- 
ed thee, 
I but the instrument. This day thou hast bound 
The father to thee, Max ! the fortunate father. 
And this debt Friedland's self must pay. 

Max. My prince 

You made no common hurry to transfer it. 
I come with shame : yea, not without a pang ! 
For scarce have I arrived here, scarce delivered 
The mother and the daughter to your arms, 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 45 

But there is brought to me from your equerry 
A splendid richly-plated hunting dress, 

So to remunerate me for my troubles 

Yes, yes, remunerate me ! Since a trouble 
It must be, a mere office, not a favour 
Which I leaped forward to receive, and which 
I came already with full heart to thank you for. 
No ! 'twas not so intended, that my business 
Should be my highest best good fortune ! 

[Tertskt enters, and delivers letters to the Duke, which 
he breaks open hurryingly. 

Court, [to Max.] Remunerate your trouble ! 
For his joy 
He makes you recompense. 'Tis not unfitting 
For you. Count Piccolomini, to feel 
So tenderly — my brother it beseems 
To show himself for ever great and princely. 

Thek. Then I too must have scruples of his love : 
For his munificent hands did ornament me 
Ere yet the father's heart had spoken to me. 

Max. Yes ; 'tis his nature ever to be giving. 
And making happy. 

\He grasps the hand of the Duchess with still increasing 
warmth. 

How my heart pours out 
Its all of thanks to him : O ! how I seem 
To utter all things in the dear name Friedland. 
While I shall live, so long will I remain 
The captive of this name : in it shall bloom 



46 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

My every fortune, every lovely hope. 

Inextricably as in some magic ring 

In this name hath my destiny charm-bound mc ? 

Coun. [ivho during this time has been anxiously 
watching the Duke, and remarlis that he is lost in 
thought over the letters.'] INIy brotlier wishes us to 
leave him. Come. 

Wah [turns himself round quick, collects himself, 
and speaks with cheerfulness to the Duchess.] 
Once more I bid thee welcome to the camp, 
Thou art the hostess of this court. You, Max, 
Will now again administer your old office, 
"While w^e perform the sovereign's business here. 

[Max Piccolomini offers the Duchess his arm^ the 
Countess accompanies the Princess. 

Ter. [calling after him.~\ Max, we depend on 
seeing you at the meeting. 

Scene X. — Wallenstein, Count Tertskt. 
Wal. [in deep thought to himself] She hath 

seen all things as they are — It is so, 
And squares completely w^ith my other notices. 
They have determined finally in Vienna, 
Have given me my successor already ; 
It is the King of Hungary, Ferdinand, 
The Emperor's delicate son ! he's now their 

saviour, 
He's the new star that's rising now ! Of us 
They think themselves already fairly rid, 
And as we were deceased, the heir already 



OR, THE FIEST PART OF Tt' A.LLENSTEIN. 47 

Is entering on possession — Therefore — dispatch ! 

[As he turns round he observes Tertsky, and gives him 
a letter. 

Count Altringer will have himself excused, 
And Gallas too — I like not this ! 

Ter. And if 

Thou loiterest longer, all will fall away, 
One following the other. 

Wal. Altringer 

Is master of the Tyrole passes. I must forth- 
with 
Send some one to him, that he let not in 
The Spaniards on me from the Milanese. 

Well, and the old Sesin, that ancient trader 

In contraband negotiations, he 

Has shown himself again of late. What brings he 

From the Count Thurn ? 

Ter. The Count communicates, 

He has found out the Swedish chancellor 
At Halberstadt, where the convention's held. 
Who says, you've tired him out, and that he'll have 
No further dealings with you. 

Wal. And why so ? 

Ter, He says, you are never in earnest in your 
speeches ; 
That you decoy the Swedes — to make fools of 

them. 
Will league yourself with Saxony against them, 
And at last make yourself a. riddance of them 
With a paltry sum of money. 



48 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

Wal. So then, doubtless, 

Yes, doubtless, this same modest Swede expects 
That I shall yield him some fair German tract 
For his prey and booty, that ourselves at last 
On our own soil and native territory. 
May be no longer our own lords and masters ! 
An excellent scheme ! No, no ! They must be off; 
Off, off! away! lue want no such neighbours. 

Ter. Nay, yield them up that dot, that speck of 
land — 
It goes not from your portion. If you win 
The game, what matters it to you who pays it? 

Wal Off with them, off! Thou understand'st 
not this. 
Never shall it be said of me, I parcelled 
My native land away, dismembered Germany, 
Betrayed it to a foreigner, in order 
To come with stealthy tread, and filch away 
My own share of the plunder — Never! never! — 
No foreign power shall strike root in the empire, 
And least of all, these Goths, these hunger-wolves, 
Who send such envious, hot and greedy glances 
Towards the rich blessings of our German lands I 
I'll have their aid to cast and draw my nets, 
But not a single fish of all the draught 
Shall they come in for. 

Ter. You will deal, however, 

More fairly with the Saxons ? They lose patience 
While you shift ground and make so many curves. 
Say, to what purpose ail these masks ? Your friends 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF AVALLENSTEIN. 49 

Are plunged in doubts, baffled and led astray in 

you. 
There's Oxenstiern, there's Arnheim — neither 

knows 
What he should think of your procrastinations. 
And in the end I prove the liar ; all 
Passes th]-oug]i me. I have not even your hand- 
writing. 
Wal. I nevej' give my hand-writing; thou 

knowest it. 
Ter. But how can it be known that you're in 

earnest, 
If the act follows not upon the word ? 
You must yourself acknowledge that in all 
Your intercourses hitherto with the enemy 
You might have done with safety all you have done, 
Had you meant nothing further than to gull him 
For the Emperor's service. 

Wal. \ofter a pause during which he looks nar- 
rowly on Tertsky.] And from whence dost thou 

know 
That I'm not gulling him for the Emperor's service? 
"Whence knowest thou that I'm not gulling all of 

you ? 
Dost thou know me so w^ell ! When made I thee 
The intendant of my secret purposes ? 
I am not conscious that I ever opened 
My inmost thoughts to thee. The Emperor, it is 

true. 
Hath dealt wdth me amiss ; and if I would, 
VOL. III. 4 



-SO THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

I could repay him with usurious interest 
For the evil he hath done me. It delights me 
To know my power; but whether I shall use it, 
Of that, I should have thought that thou couldst 

speak 
No wiselier than thy fellows. 

Ter. So hast thou always played thy game 
with us. [Enter Ili.o. 



Scene XI. — Illo, "Wallenstein, Tertsky. 

Wal. How stand affairs without? Are they 

prepared ? 
Ilh. You'll find them in the very mood you 
wish. 
They know about the Emperor's requisitions, 
And are tumultuous. 

Wal, How hath Isolan 

Declared himself? 

Illo. He's yours, both soul and body, 

Since you built up again his faro-bank. 

Wal. And which way doth Kolalto bend ? Hast 
thou 
Made sure of Tiefenbach and Deodati ? 

Illo. What Piccolomini does, that they do too. 
Wal. You mean then I may venture somewhat 

with them? 
lUo. — If you are assured of the Piccolomini. 
WaL Not more assured of mine own self. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OP WALLENSTEIN. 51 

Ter. And yet 

I would you trusted not so much to Octavio, 
The fox ! 

Wal. Thou teachest me to know my man ? 
Sixteen campaigns I have made with that old 

warrior. 
Besides, I have his horoscope, 
We both are born beneath like stars — in short 

[ With an air of mystery. 

To this belongs its own particular aspect, 

If therefore thou canst warrant me the rest 

lUo. There is among them all but this one 
voice, 
You must not lay down the command. I hear 
They mean to send a deputation to you. 

Wal. If I'm in aught to bind myself to them, 
They too must bind themselves to me. 

Illo. Of course. 

Wal. Their words of honour they must give, 
their oaths. 
Give them in writing to me, promising 
Devotion to my service unconditional. 
Illo. Why not? 

Ter. Devotion un<ionditional ? 

The exception of their duties towards Austria 
They'll always place among the premises. 

With this reserve 

Wal. ^shaking his head.'] All unconditional! 
No premises, no reserves. 
Illo. A thoujrht has struck me. 



52 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

Does not Count Tertsky give us a set banquet 
This evening ? 

Ter. Yes ; and all the Generals 

Have been invited. 

Illo. {to Wallenstem.'] Say, will you here fully 
Commission me to use my own discretion ? 
I'll gain for you the Generals' words of honour, 
Even as you wish. 

Wal. Gain me their signatures ! 

How you come by them, that is your concern. 

Illo. And if I bring it to you, black on white, 
That all the leaders who are present here 
Give themselves up to you, without condition ; 
Say, will you then — the7i will you show yourself 
In earnest, and with some decisive action 
Make trial of your luck ? 

WaL The signatures ! 

Gain me the signatures. 

Illo. Seize, seize the hour 

Ere it slips from you. Seldom comes the moment 
In life, which is indeed sublime and weighty. 
To make a great decision possible, 
O ! many things, all transient and all rapid. 
Must meet at once : and, haply, they thus met 
May by that confluence be enforced to pause 
Time long enough for wisdom, though too short, 
Far, far too short a time for doubt and scruple ! 
This is that moment. See, our army chieftains, 
Our best, our noblest, are assembled around you, 
Their kinglike leader ! On your nod they wait. 



OK, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 53 

The single threads, which here your prosperous 

fortune 
Hath woven together in one potent web 
Instinct with destiny, O let them not 
Unravel of themselves. If you permit 
These chiefs to separate, so unanimous 
Bring you them not a second time together. 
'Tis the high tide that heaves the stranded ship, 
And every individual's spirit waxes 
In the great stream of multitudes. Behold 
They are still here, here still ! But soon the war 
Bursts them once more asunder, and in small 
Particular anxieties and interests 
Scatters their spirit, and the sympathy 
Of each man with the whole. He, who to-day 
Forgets himself, forced onward M'ith the stream, 
Will become sober, seeing but himself, 
Feel only his own weakness, and \\ith speed 
AYill face about, and march on in the old 
High road of duty, the old broad-trodden road. 
And seek but to make shelter in good plight. 

Wall. The time is not yet come. 

Ter. So you say always. 

But when will it be time? 

Wal When I shall say it. 

Illo. You'll wait upon the stars, and on their 
hours, 
Till the earthly hour escapes you. 0, believe me, 
In your own bosom are your destiny's stars. 
Confidence in yourself, prompt resolution, 



54 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

This is your Venus ! and the sole malignant, 
The only one that harmeth you is doubt. 
Wal. Thou speakest as thou understand'st. 
How oft 
And many a time I've told thee, Jupiter, 
That lustrous god, was setting at thy birth. 
Thy visual power subdues no mysteries ; 
Mole-eyed, thou may'st but burrow in the earth, 
Blind as that subterrestrial, who with w^an, 
Lead-coloured shine lighted thee into life. 
The common, the terrestrial, thou may'st see, 
With serviceable cunning knit together 
The nearest with the nearest ; and therein 
I trust thee and believe thee ! but whate'er 
Full of mysterious import Nature weaves. 
And fashions in the depths — the spirit's ladder, 
That from this gross and visible world of dust 
Even to the starry world, with thousand rounds, 
Builds itself up; on which the unseen powers 
Move up and down on heavenly ministries — 
The circles in the circles, that approach 
The central sun with ever-narrowing orbit — 
These see the glance alone, the unsealed eye. 
Of Jupiter's glad children born in lustre. 

[He walks across (he chamber, then returns, and, stand- 
ing stilly proceeds. 

The heavenly constellations make not merely 
The day and nights, summer and spring, not 

merely 
Signify to the husbandman the seasons 



OR, THE FIllST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 55 

Of sowing and of harvest. Human action, 
That is the seed too of contingencies, 
Strewed on the dark land of futurity, 
In hopes to reconcile the powers of fate. 
Whence it behoves us to seek out the seed-time, 
To watch the stars, select their proper hours, 
And trace with searching eye the heavenly houses, 
Whether the enemy of growth and thriving 
Hide himself not, malignant, in his corner. 
Therefore permit me my own time. Meanwhile 
Do you your part. As yet I cannot say 
What / shall do — only, give way I will not. 
Depose me too they shall not. On these points 
You may rely. 

Page [_e7itei'ing.'] My Lords, the Generals. 

Wal. Let them come in. 

Scene XII. — Wallenstetn, Tertskt, Illo. — To them 
enter Questenberg, Octavio, and Max Piccolo- 
mini, BoTLER, IsoLANi, Maradas, and three other 
Generals. Wallenstein motions Questenberg, 
who in consequence takes the chair dtrectli/ opposite to 
him; the others follow, arranging themselves according 
to their rank. There reigns a vionientary silence. 

Wal. I have understood, 'tis true, the sum and 

import 
Of your instructions, Questenberg; have weighed 

them, 
And formed my final, absolute resolve ; 
Yet it seems fitting, that the generals 



56 THE nCCOLOMINI ; 

Should hear the will of the Emperor from jour 

mouth. 
May't please you then to open your commission 
Before these noble chieftains. 

Ques. I am ready 

To obey you ; but will first entreat your Highness, 
And all these noble chieftains, to consider, 
The imperial dignity and sovereign right 
Si^eaks from my mouth, and not my own pre- 
sumption. 
Wal. We excuse all preface. 
Ques. When his Majesty 

The Emperor to his courageous armies 
Presented in the person of Duke Friedland 
A most experienced and renowned commander, 
He did it in glad hope and confidence 
To give thereby to the fortune of the war 
A rapid and auspicious change. The onset 
Was favourable to his royal wishes. 
Bohemia was delivered from the Saxons, 
The Swede's career of conquest checked ! These 

lands 
Began to draw breath freely, as Duke Friedland 
From all the streams of Germany forced hither 
The scattered armies of the enemy. 
Hither invoked as round one magic circle 
The Rhinegrave, Bernhard, Banner, Oxenstiern, 
Yea, and that never-conquered King himself; 
Here finally, before the eye of Nurnberg, 
The fearful game of battle to decide. 



OR, THE FIRST TART OF WALLENSTEIN. 57 

Wal. May't please you, to the point. 
Ques. In Niirnberg's camp the Swedish mo- 
narch left 
His fame — in Liitzen's plains his life. But who 
Stood not astounded, when victorious Friedland 
After this day of triumph, this proud day, 
Marched toward Bohemia wnth the speed of flight, 
And vanished from the theatre of war ; 
While the young Weimar hero forced his way 
Into Franconia, to the Danube, like 
Some delving winter-stream, which, where it 

rushes, 
Makes its own channel ; with such sudden speed 
He marched, and now at once 'fore Regensburg 
Stood to the affright of all good Catholic Chris- 
tians. 
Then did Bavaria's well-deserving Prince 
Entreat swift aidance in his extreme need ; 
The Emperor sends seven horsemen to Duke 

Friedland, 
Seven horsemen couriers sends he with the en- 
treaty : 
He superadds his own, and supplicates 
Where as the sovereign lord he can command. 
In vain his supplication ! At this moment 
The Duke hears only his old hate and grudge, 
Barters the general good to gratify 
Private revenge — and so falls Regensburg. 

Wal. Max, to what period of the war alludes he? 
My recollection fails me here. 



58 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

Max, He means 

When we were in Silesia. 

Wal Ay ! Is it so ! 

But what had we to do there ? 

Max. To beat out 

The Swedes and Saxons from the province. 

Wal True 

In that description which the minister gave 
I seemed to have forgotten the whole war. 
\_To QuESTENBEKG.] Well, but proceed a little. 

Ques. Yes ! at length 

Beside the river Oder did the Duke 
Assert his ancient fame. Upon the fields 
Of Steinau did the Swedes lay down their arms, 
Subdued without a blow. And here, with others, 
The righteousness of Heaven to his avenger 
Delivered that long-practised stirrer-up 
Of insurrection, that curse-laden torch 
And kindler of this war, Matthias Thum. 
But he had fallen into magnanimous hands ; 
Instead of punishment he found reward, 
And with rich presents did the Duke dismiss 
The arch-foe of his Emperor. 

Wal [laughs.'] I know, 

I know you had already in Vienna 
Your windows and balconies all forestalled 
To see him on the executioner's cart. 
I might have lost the battle, lost it too 
With infamy, and still retained your graces — 
But, to have cheated them of a specttvcle, 



OR, THE FIIIST PART OF AYALLEN3TEIX. 59 

Oh ! that the good folks of Vienna never, 
No, never can forgive me. 

Ques. So Silesia 

Was freed, and all things loudly called the Duke 
Into Bavaria, now pressed hard on all sides. 
And he did put his troops in motion : slowly. 
Quite at his ease, and by the longest road 
He traverses Bohemia ; but ere ever 
He hath once seen the enemy, faces round. 
Breaks up the march, and takes to winter quar- 
ters. 

Wal. The troops were pitiably destitute 
Of every necessary, every comfort. 
The winter came. What thinks his Majesty 
His troops are made of? Arn't we men ? sub- 
jected 
Like other men to wet and cold, and all 
The circumstances of necessity ? 
O miserable lot of the poor soldier ! 
Wherever he comes in, all flee before him, 
And when he goes away, the general curse 
Follows him on his route. All must be seized, 
Nothing is given him. And compelled to seize 
From every man, he's every man's abhorrence. 
Behold, here stand my Generals. Karaffa ! 
Count Deodati ! Butler ! Tell this man 
How long the soldiers' pay is in arrears. 

Bui. Already a full year. 

WaL And 'tis the hire 



60 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

That constitutes the hireling's name and duties, 
The soldier's pay is the soldier's covenant.* 

Ques. Ah ! this is a far other tone from that, 
In which the Duke spoke eight, nine years ago. 

Wal. Yes ! 'tis my fault, I know it : I myself 
Have spoilt the Emperor by indulging him. 
Nine years ago, during the Danish war, 
I raised him up a force, a mighty force, 
Forty or fifty thousand men, that cost liim 
Of his own purse no doit. Through Saxony 
The fury goddess of the war marched on. 
E'en to the surf-rocks of the Baltic, bearing 
The terrors of his name. That was a time ! 
In the whole Imperial realm no name like mine 
Honoured with festival and celebration — 
And Albrecht Wallenstein, it was the title 
Of the third jewel in his crown ! 
But at the Diet, when the Princes met 
At Regensburg, there, there the whole broke out, 
There 'twas laid open, there it was made known, 
Out of what money-bag I had paid the host. 
And what was now my thank, what had I now, 

* The original is not translatable into English; 

Und sein Sold 

Muss dem Soldafen werden ; darnach heisst er. 
It might perhaps have been thus rendered: 

" And that for which he sold his services, 
The soldier must receive." 
But a false or doubtful etymology is no more than a dull 
pan. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 61 

That T, a fliitliful servant of the sovereign, 
Had loaded on myself the people's curses. 
And let the Princes of the empire pay 
The expenses of this war, that aggrandizes 
The Emperor alone — What thanks had I ! 
What? I was offered up to their complaints, 
Dismissed, degraded ! 

Ques. But your Highness knows 

What little freedom he possessed of action 
In that disastrous diet. 

Wal Death and hell ! 

/ had that which could have procured him free- 
dom. 
No ! Since 'twas proved so inauspicious to me 
To serve the Emperor at the empire's cost, 
I have been taught far other trains of thinking 
Of the empire, and the diet of the empire. 
From the Emperor, doubtless, I received this staff, 
But now I hold it as the empire's general — 
For the common weal, the universal int'rest, 
And no more for that one man's aggrandizement ! 
But to the point. What is it that's desired of me ? 

Ques. First, his imperial Majesty hath willed 
That without pretexts of delay the army 
Evacuate Bohemia. 

Wal. In this season ? 

And to what quarter, wills the Emperor, 
That we direct our course ? 

Ques. To the enemy. 

His Majesty resolves, that Regensburg 



62 THE PICCOLOMTNI ; 

Be purified from the enemy, ere Easter, 
That Luth'ranism may be no longer preached 
In that cathedral, nor heretical 
Defilement desecrate the celebration 
Of that pure festival. 

Wal. My generals, 

Can this be realized ? 

JUo. 'Tis not possible. 

But. It can't be realized. 

Ques. The Emperor 

Already hath commanded Colonel Suys 
To advance toward Bavaria ! 

Wal What did Suys ? 

Ques. That which his duty prompted. He ad- 
vanced ! 

Wal. "What ? he advanced ! And I, his general, 
Had given him orders, peremptory orders. 
Not to desert his station ! Stands it thus 
With my authority ? Is this th' obedience 
Due to my office, which being thrown aside 
No war can be conducted ? Chieftains, speak 
You be the judges, generals ! What deserves 
That officer, who of his oath neglectful 
Is guilty of contempt of orders ? 

JUo. [raising Ms voice, as all hut Illo had re- 
mained silent, and seemingly scrupulous.'] Death. 

Wal. Count Piccolomini ! w^hat has he de- 
served ? 

Max Pic. [after a long pause.] According to 
the letter of the law, 
Death. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 63 

Iso. Death. 

But. Death, by the laws of war. 

[QuESTENBERG Hses from his seat, Wallenstein 
follows ; all the rest rise. 

Wal. To this the law condemns him, and not L 
And if I show him favour, 'twill arise 
From the rev'rence that I owe my Emperor. 

Ques. If so, I can say nothing further — here ! 

Wal. I accepted the command but on con- 
ditions ! 
And this the first, that to the diminution 
Of my authority no human being, 
Not even the Emperor's self, should be entitled 
To do aught, or to say aught, with the army. 
If I stand warranter of the event^ 
Placing my honour and my head in pledge, 
Needs must I have full mastery in all 
The means thereto. What rendered this Gustavus 
Resistless, and unconquered upon earth ? 
This — that he was the monarch in his army ! 
A monarch, one who is indeed a monarch, 
Was never yet subdued but by his equal. 
But to the point ! The best is yet to come. 
Attend now, generals ! 

Ques. The Prince Cardinal 

Begins his route at the approach of spring 
From the Milanese ; and leads a Spanish army 
Through Germany into the Netherlands. 
That he may march secure and unimpeded, 



64 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

'Tis th' Emperor's will you grant him a detach- 
ment 
Of eight horse-regiments from the army here. 
Wal. Yes, yes ! I understand ! — Eight regi- 
ments ! Well, 
Right well concerted, father Lamormain ! 
Eight thousand horse ! Yes, yes ! 'Tis as it 

should be ! 
I see it coming. 

Ques. There is nothing coming. 

All stands in front : the counsel of state-prudence, 

The dictate of necessity ! 

WaL What then? 

What, my Lord Envoy ? May I not be suffered 
To understand, that folks are tired of seeing 
The sword's hilt in my grasp : and that your court 
Snatch eagerly at this pretence, and use 
The Spanish title, to drain off ray forces, 
To lead into the empire a new army 
Unsubjected to my control. To throw me 
Plumply aside, — I am still too powerful for you 
To venture that. My stipulation runs, 
That all the Imperial forces shall obey me 
Where'er the German is the native language. 
Of Spanish troops and of Prince Cardinals 
That take their route, as visitors, through the em- 
pire, 
There stands no syllable in my stipulation. 
No syllable ! And so the politic court 
Steals in a-tiptoe, and creeps round behind it : 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. G5 

First makes me weaker, then to be dispensed with, 

Till it dares strike at length a bolder blow 

And make short work with me. 

What need of all these crooked ways. Lord En- 
voy ! 

Straight-forward, man ! His compact with me 
pinches 

The Emperor. He would that I moved off I — 

Well ! — I will gratify him ! 

[Here there commences an agitation among the Generals 
which increases continually. 

It grieves me for my noble officers' sakes ! 

I see not yet, by what means they will come at 

The moneys they have advanced, or how obtain 

The recompense their services demand. 

Still a new leader brings new claimants forward, 

And prior merit superannuates quickly. 

There serve here many foreigners in th' army, 

And were the man in all else brave and gallant, 

I was not wont to make nice scrutiny 

After his pedigree or catechism. 

This will be otherwise, i' the time to come. 

Well — me no longer it concerns. [He seats himself. 

3fax Fie. Forbid it. Heaven, that it should 
come to this ! 
Our troops will swell in dreadful fermentation — 
The Emperor is abused — it cannot be. 

Iso. It cannot be ; all goes to instant wreck. 

Wal. Thou hast said truly, faithful Isolani ! 
What we with toil and foresight have built up, 

VOL. III. 5 



66 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

'Will go to wreck — all go to instant wreck. 
What then ? another chieftain is soon found, 
Another army likewise (who dares doubt it ?) 
Will flock from all sides to the Emperor 
At the first beat of his recruiting drum. 

[During this speech, Isolani, Tertsky, Illo, and 
Maradas talk confusedly with great agitation. 

Max Pic. [busily and passionately going from 
one to another, and soothing them.'] Hear, my com- 
mander ! Hear me, generals ! 
Let me conjure you, Duke ! Determine nothing. 
Till we have met and represented to you 
Our joint remonstrances. — Nay, calmer ! Friends ! 
I hope all may be yet set right again. 

Ter. Away ! let us away ! in th' antechamber 
Find we the others. [They go. 

But. [to QuESTENBERG.] If good couuscl gain 
Due audience from your wisdom, my Lord Envoy, 
You will be cautious how you show yourself 
In public for some hours to come — or hardly 
Will that gold key protect you from maltreat- 
ment. 

[ Commotions heard from without. 

Wdl. A salutary counsel Thou, Octavio, 

■Wilt answer for the safety of our guest. 
Farewell, Von Questenberg. 

{QuESTENBERG is obout to speak. 
Nay, not a word, 
Not one word more of that detested subject ! 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. G7 

You have performed your duty — We know liow 
To separate the office from the man. 

[As QuESTENBERG IS going of with Octavio, Goetz. 
TiEFEKBACH, KoLALTO, press ill; several other Ge- 
nerals following them. 
Goetz. Where's he who means to rob us of our 

general ? 
Tief. [at the same time.'] What are we forced 

to hear ? That thou wilt leave us ? 
Kol. \_at the same time.'] AVe will live with thee, 

we will die with thee. 
Wal. I pointing to Illo.] There ! the Field- 
Marshal knows our will. [Exit. 
[ Willie all are going off the stage, ike curtain drops. 



ACT n. 

Scene I. — A small Chamber. 

Illo and Teetskt. 
Ter. Now for this evening's business! How 
intend you 
To manage with the generals at the banquet ? 

Illo. Attend ! We frame a formal declaratioix 
Wherein we to the Duke consign ourselves 
Collectively, to be and to remain 
His both with life and limb, and not to spare 



63 THE nCCOLOMIXI; 

The last drop of our blood for him, provided 
So doing we infringe no oath nor duty, 
We may be under to the Emp'ror. — Mark ! 
This reservation we expressly make 
In a particular clause, and save the conscience. 
Now hear ! This formula so framed and worded 
Will be presented to them for perusal 
Before the banquet. No one will find in it 
Cause of offence or scruple. Hear now further ! 
After the feast, when now the vap'ring wine 
Opens the heart, and shuts the eyes, we let 
A counterfeited paper, in the which 
This one particular clause has been left out, 
Go round for signatures. 

Ter. How ? think you then 

That they'll believe themselves bound by an 

oath. 
Which w^e had tricked them into by a juggle ? 
lllo. We shall have caught and caged them ! 

Let them then 
Beat their wings bare against the wires, and rave 
Loud as they may against our treachery. 
At court their signatures will be believed 
Far more than their most holy affirmations. 
Traitors they are, and must be ; therefore wisely 
Will make a virtue of necessity. 

Ter. Well, well, it shall content me ; let but 

something 
Be done, let only some decisive blow 
Set us in motion. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLEXSTEIN. 09 

lUo. Besides, 'tis of subordinate importance 
How, or how far, we may tlierebj propel 
The generals. 'Tis enough that we persuade 
The Duke, that they are his — Let him but act 
In his determined mood, as if he had them. 
And he will have them. Where he plunges in, 
He makes a whirlpool, and all stream down to it. 

2\r. His policy is such a labyrinth. 
That many a time when I have thought myself 
Close at his side, he's gone at once and left me 
Ignorant of the ground where I was standing. 
He lends the enemy his ear, permits me 
To write to them, to Arnheim ; to Sesina 
Himself comes forward blank and undisguised ; 
Talks with us by the hour about his plans. 

And when I think I have him — off at once 

He has slipped from me, and appears as if 
He had no scheme, but to retain his place. 

lllo. He give up his old plans ! I'll tell you, 
friend ! 
His soul is occupied with nothing else. 
Even in his sleep — They are his thoughts, his 

dreams. 
That day by day he questions for this purpose 
The motions of the planets 

Ter. Ay ! you know 

This night, that is now coming, he with Seni 
Shuts himself up in the astrological tower 
To make joint observations — for I hear, 
It is to be a niojht of weight and crisis ; 



70 THE PICCOLOMINIJ 

And something great, and of long expectation, 
Is to make its procession in the heaven. 

lllo. Come ! be we bold and make dispatcli. 
The work 
In this next day or two must thrive and grow 
More than it has for years. And let but only 

Things first turn up auspicious here below 

Mark what I say — the right stars too will show 

themselves. 
Come, to the generals. All is in the glow, 
And must be beaten while 'tis malleable. 

Ter. Do you go thither, lllo. I must stay 
And ivait here for the Countess Tertsky. Know, 
That we too are not idle. Break one string, 
A second is in readiness. 

lllo. Yes ! Yes ! 

I saw your lady smile with such sly meaning. 
"What's in the wind ? 

Ter. A secret. Hush ! she comes. 

Exit Illo. 

Scene II. — (77*6 Couxtess steps out from a Closet.) 
CocNT and Countess Tertsky. 

Ter. Well — is she coming ? — I can keep him 
back 
No longer. 

Coun. She will be there instantly. 
You only send him. 

Ter. I am not quite certain 

I must confess it, Countess, whether or not [know 
We are earning the Duke's thanks hereby. You 



or, THE FIRST TART OF WALLEXSTEIN. 71 

No ray has broken from liiiii on this point. 
You have o'er-ruled me, and yourself know best, 
How far you dare proceed. 

Coun, I take it on me. 

[ Talking to herself ^ while she is advancing. 

Here's no need of full powers and commissions — 
My cloudy Duke ! we understand each other — 
And without words. What, could I not unriddle. 
Wherefore the daughter should be sent for hither. 
Why first he, and no other, should be chosen 
To fetch her hither ? This sham of betrothing her 
To a bridegroom,* whom no one knows — No ! 

no ! 

This may blind others ! I see through thee, 

Brother ! 
But it beseems thee not, to draw a card 
At such a game. Not yet ! — It all remains 

Mutely delivered up to my finessing 

Well — thou shalt not have been deceived, Duke 

Friedland ! 

In her who is thy sister. 

Servant \_enters.~\ The commanders ! 

Ter [to the Countess.'] Take care you heat his 

fancy and affections — - 
Possess him with a reverie, and send him, 

* In Germany, after honourable addresses have been paid 
and formally accepted, the lovers are called Bride and Bride- 
groom, even tliough the marriage should not take place till 
years aft^^-wards, 



72 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

Absent and dreaming, to the banquet ; that 
He may not boggle at the signature. 

Coun, Take you care of your guests ! — Go, 

send him hither. 
Ter. All rests upon his undersigning. 
Coun. [interrupting him.'] Go to your guests ! 

Go 

lllo. [comes hack.'] Where art staying, Tertsky ? 
The house is full, and all expecting you. 

Ter. Instantly ! Instantly ! [To the Countess.] 
And let him not 
Stay here too long. It might awake suspicion 

In the old man 

Coun. A truce with your precautions ! 

[Exeunt Tertsky and Illo. 

Scene III. — Countess, Max Piccolomini. 
Max. [peeping in on the stage, slily.~\ Aunt 
Tertsky, may I venture ? 
[Advances to the middle of the stage, and looks around him 
with uneasiness. 

She's not here ! 
Where is she ? 

Coun. Look but somewhat narrowly 

In yonder corner, lest perhaps she lie 
Concealed behind that screen. 

3Iax. There lie her gloves ! 

[Snatches at them, but the Countess takes them herself. 
You unkind lady ! You refuse me this — 
You make it an amusement to torment me. 



OR, THE FIKST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 73 

Coun. And this the thanks you give me for my 
trouble ? 

Max. O, if you felt the oppression at my 
heart ! 
Since we've been here, so to constrain myself — 
With such poor stealth to hazard words and 

glances — 
These, these are not my habits ! 

Coun. You have still 

Many new habits to acquire, young friend ! 
But on this proof of your obedient temj)er 
I must continue to insist ; and only 
On this condition can I play the agent 
For your concerns. 

Max. But wherefore comes she not ? 

Where is she ? 

Coun. Into my hands you must place it 

Whole and entire. Whom could you find, indeed, 
More zealously affected to your interest? 
No soul on earth must know it — not your father. 
He must not above all. 

Max. Alas ! what danger ? 

Here is no face on which I might concentre 
All the enraptured soul stirs up within me. 
O lady ! tell me. Is all changed around me? 
Or is it only I ? 

I find myself 
As among strangers ! Not a trace is left 
Of all my former wishes, former joys. 
Where has it vanished to ? There was a time 



74 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

When even, metliought, with such a world as this 

I was not discontented. Now how flat ! 

How stale ! No life, no bloom, no flavour in it ! 

My comrades are intolerable to me. 

My fiither — Even to him I can say nothing. 

My arms, my military duties — O ! 

They are such wearying toys ! 

Coun. But, gentle friend ! 

I must entreat it of your condescension, 
You would be pleased to sink your eye, and favour 
"With one short glance or two this poor stale world 
Where even now much, and of much moment, 
Is on the eve of its completion. 

Max. Something, 

I can't but know, is going forward round me. 
I see it gathering, crowding, driving on. 
In wild uncustomary movements. Well, 
In due time, doubtless, it will reach even me. 
Where think you I have been, dear lady ? Nay, 
No raillery. The turmoil of the camp. 
The spring-tide of acquaintance rolling in. 
The pointless jest, the empty conversation. 
Oppressed and stifled me. I gasped for air — 
I could not breathe — I was constrained to fly, 
To seek a silence out for my full heart ; 
And a pure spot wherein to feel my happiness. 
No smiling, Countess ! In the church was I, 
There is a cloister here to the * Heaven's Gate, 

* I am doubtful whether this be the dedication of the clois- 
ter or the luime of ojie of the city gates, near v/hich it stood, 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLEN3TEIN. 75 

Thither I went, there found myself alone. 
Over the altar hung a Holy Mother ; 
A wretched painting 'twas, yet 'twas the friend 
That I was seeking in this moment. Ah, 
How oft have I beheld that glorious form 
In splendour, 'mid ecstatic worshippers, 
Yet, still it moved me not ! and now at once 
Was my devotion cloudless as my love. 

Couii. Enjoy your fortune and felicity ! 
Forget the world around you. Meantime, friend- 
ship 
Shall keep strict vigils for you, anxious, active. 
Only be manageable when that friendship 
Points you the road to full accomplishment. 
How long may it be since you declared your 
passion ? 
Max. This morning did I hazard the first word. 
Coun. This morning the first time in twenty 

days ? 
Max. 'Tvvas at that hunting-castle, betwixt here 
And Nepomuck, where you had joined us, and — 
That was the last relay of the whole journey ! 
In a balcony we were standing mute, 
And gazing out upon the dreary field : 
Before us the dragoons were riding onward, 
The safe-guard which the Duke had sent us — 
lieavy 

I have translated it in tlie former sense; but fearful of 
having made some blunder, I add the original. — F.s ist eia 
Klosterhier, zur Uiiniatlq>fi,rte. 



76 THE PICCOLOMIXl , 

The inquietude of parting lay upon me, 
And trembling ventured I at length these words : 
This all reminds me, noble maiden, that 
To-day, I must take leave of my good fortune. 
A few hours more, and you will find a father, 
Will see yourself surrounded by new friends, 
And I henceforth shall be but as a stranger. 
Lost in the many — " Speak with my Aunt 

Tertsky!" 
With hurrying voice she interrupted me. 
She faltered. I beheld a glowing red 
Possess her beautiful cheeks, and from the ground 
Raised slowly up her eye met mine — no longer 
Did I control myself. 

[The Princess Thekla appears at the door, and re- 
mains standing^ observed by the Codntess, but not by 

PiCCOLOMINI. 

With instant boldness 
I caught her in my arms, my mouth touched hers ; 
There was a rustling in the room close by ; 
It parted us — 'Twas you. What since has 

happened, 
You know. 

Court, \nfter a pause, with a stolen glance at 
Thekla.] And is it your excess of modesty ; 
Or are you so incurious, that you do not 
Ask me too of my secret ? 

Max. Of your secret ? 

Coun. Why, yes ! When in the instant after you 
I stepped into the room, and found my niece there, 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIX. 77 

What she in this first moment of the heart, 
Ta'en with surprise — 

3Iax. [with eagerness] Well. 



Scene IV. — Tiiekla {hurries forward,) Countess, Max 

PlCCOLOMINI. 

Theh \to the Countess.] Spare yourself the 
trouble : 
That hears he better from myself. 

Max. \_stepping backward.] My Princess ! 
What have you let her hear me say, Aunt 
Tertsky ? 
Thek. Ito the Countess.] Has he been here 

long ? 
Coun. Yes; and soon must go. 

Where have you stayed so long ? 

Thek. Alas ! my mother 

Wept so again ! and I — I see her suffer, 
Yet cannot keep myself from being happy. 

Max. Now once again I have courage to look 
on you. 
To-day at noon I could not. 
The dazzle of the jewels that played round you 
Hid the beloved from me. 

Thek. Then you saw me 

With your eye only — and not with your heart ? 
Max. This morning, when I found you in the 
circle 
Of all your kindred, in your father's arms, 



78 THE nccOLOMiNi ; 

Beheld myself an alien in this circle, 
O ! what an impulse felt I in that moment 
To fall upon his neck, and call hxm father ! 
But his stern eye o'erpower'd the swelling passion, 
It dared not but be silent. And those brilliants. 
That like a crown of stars enwreathed your brows, 
They scared me too ! O wherefore, wherefore 

should he 
At the firs meeting spread as 'twere the ban 
Of excommunication round you, w^herefore 
Dress up the angel as for sacrifice, 
And cast upon the light and joyous heart 
The mournful burthen of his station ? Fitly 
May love dare woo for love ; but such a splen- 
dour 
Might none but raonarchs venture to approach. 

Thek. Hush! not a word more of this mummery, 
You see how soon the burthen is thrown off. 
\_To the Countess.] He is not in spirits. Where- 
fore is he not ? 
'Tis you, aunt, that have made him all so gloomy ! 
He had quite another nature on the journey — 
So calm, so bright, so joyous, eloquent. 
[ To Max.] It was my wish to see you always so, 
And never otherwise ! 

3Iax. You find yourself 

In your great father's arms, beloved lady ! 
All in a new world, which does homage to you, 
And which, wer't only by its novelty, 
Delights your eye. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 79 

Theh. Yes ; I confess to you 

That many things delight me here : this camp, 
This motley stage of warriors, which renews 
So manifold the image of my fancy, 
And binds to life, binds to reality, 
"What hitherto had but been present to me 
As a sweet dream ! 

Max, Alas ! not so to me. 

It makes a dream of my reality. 
Upon some island in the ethereal heights 
I've lived for these last days. This mass of men 
Forces me down to earth. It is a bridge 
That, reconducting to my former life. 
Divides me and my heaven. 

Theh. The game of life 

Looks cheerful, when one carries in one's heart 
The inalienable treasure. 'Tis a game, 
Wliich having once reviewed, I turn more joyous 
Back to my deeper and appropriate bliss. 

[Breaking off", and in a sportive tone. 
In this short time that I've been present here, 
"What new unheard-of things have I not seen ! 
And yet they all must give place to the wonder 
Which this mysterious castle guards. 

Coun. [recollecting.^ And what 

Can this be then ? Methought I was acquainted 
With all the dusky corners of this house. 

Thek. Ay, [smiling,'] but the road thereto is 
watched by spirits. 
Two griffins still stand sentry at the door. 



80 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

Coun. [laughsJ] The astrological tower ! — • 
How happens it 
That this same sanctuary, whose access 
Is to all others so impracticable, 
Opens before you even at your approach ? 

Theh A dwarfish old man with a friendly face 
And snow-white hairs, whose gracious services 
Were mine at first sight, opened me the doors. 

Max. That is the Duke's astrologer, old Seni. 

Theh. He questioned me on many points ; for 
instance, 
When I was born, what month, and on what day, 
Whether by day or in the night. 

Coun. He wished 

To erect a figure for your horoscope. 

Thek. My hand too he examined, shook his 
head 
With such sad meaning, and the lines, methought, 
Did not square over truly with his wishes. 

Coun. Well, Princess, and what found you in 
this tower? 
My highest privilege has been to snatch 
A side-glance, and away ! 

Thek. It was a strange 

Sensation that came o'er me, when at first 
From the broad sunshine I stept in ; and now 
The narrowing line of day-light, that ran after 
The closing door, was gone ; and all about me 
'Twas pale and dusky night, with many shadows 
Fantastically cast. Here six or seven 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLKNSTEIN. 81 

Colossal statues, and all kings, stood round me 

In a half-circle. Each one in his hand 

A sceptre bore, and on his head a star ; 

And in the tower no other light was there 

But from these stars: all seemed to come from 

them, 
" These are the planets," said that low old man, 
" They govern worldly fates, and for that cause 
Are imaged here as kings. He farthest from you, 
Spiteful, and cold, an old man melancholy, 
With bent and yellow forehead, he is Saturn. 
He opposite, the king with the red light, 
An armed man for the battle, that is Mars : 
And both these bring but little luck to man." 
But at his side a lovely lady stood. 
The star upon her head Avas soft and bright, 
And that was Venus, the bright star of joy.. 
On the left hand, lo ! Mercury, with wings. 
Quite in the middle glittered silver bright 
A cheerful man, and with a monarch's mien ; 
And this was Jupiter, my father's star : 
And at his side I saw the Sun and Moon. 

3Iax. never rudely will I blame his faith 
In the might of stars and angels ! 'Tis not merely 
The human being's Pride that peoples space 
With life and mystical predominance ; 
Since likewise for the stricken heart of Love 
This visible nature, and this common world. 
Is all too narrow ; yea, a deeper import 
Lurks in the legend told my infant years 

VOL. III. 6 



82 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

Than lies upon that truth, we live to learn. 
For fable is Love's world, his home, his birth- 
place : 
Delightedly dwells he 'mong fays and talismans, 
And spirits ; and delightedly believes 
Divinities, being himself divine. 
The intelligible forms of ancient poets, 
The fair humanities of old religion. 
The power, the beauty, and the majesty, 
That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain. 
Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, 
Or chasms and wat'ry depths ; all these have 

vanished ; 
They live no longer in the faith of reason ! 
But still the heart doth need a language, still 
Doth the old instinct bring back the old names. 
And to yon starry world they now are gone. 
Spirits or gods, that used to share this earth 
With man as with their friend; and to the lover 
Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky 
Shoot influence down : and even at this day 
'Tis Jupiter who brings whate'er is great, 
And Venus who brings everything that's fair ! ' 
Theh. And if this be the science of the stars, 
I too, with glad and zealous industry. 
Will learn acquaintance with this cheerful faith. 
It is a gentle and affectionate thought. 
That in immeasurable heights above us. 
At our first birth, the wreath of love was woven, 
With sparkling stars for flowers. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 88 

Coun. Not only roses, 

But thorns too hath the heaven ; and well for jou 
Leave they your wreath of love inviolate ; 
What Venus twined, the bearer of glad fortune. 
The sullen orb of Mars soon tears to pieces. 
Max. Soon will his gloomy empire reach its 
close. 
Blest be the general's zeal : into the laurel 
Will he inweave the olive-branch, presenting 
Peace to the shouting nations. Then no wish 
Will have remained for his great heart ! Enough 
Has he performed for glory, and can now 
Live^ for himself and his. To his domains 
Will he retire ; he has a stately seat 
Of fairest view at Gitschin ; Reichenberg, 
And Friedland Castle, both lie pleasantly — 
Even to the foot of the huge mountains here 
Stretches the chase and covers of his forests : 
His ruling passion, to create the splendid. 
He can indulge without restraint ; can give 
A princely patronage to every art, 
And to all worth a sovereign's protection ; 
Can build, can plant, can watch the starry cour- 
ses — 

Coun. Yet I would have you look, and look 
again. 
Before you lay aside your arms, young friend ! 
A gentle bride, as she is, is well worth it. 
That you should woo and win her with the sword. 

Max. 0, that the sword could win her ! 



84 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

Court. What was that? 

Did you hear nothing ? Seemed, as if I heard 
Tumult and larum in the banquet-room. 

\^Exit Countess. 

Scene V. — Thekla and Max Piccolomini. 

Theh. [as soon as the Countess is out of sigJd, 
in a quick loiv voice to Piccolomini.] Don't trust 
them ! They are false ! 

Max. Impossible ! 

Theh. Trust no one here but me. I saw at 
once, 
They had a 'purpose. 

3Iax. Purpose ! but what purpose ? 

And how can we be instrumental to it .'' 

TJieh. I know no more than you ; but yet be- 
lieve me : 
There's some design in this ! to make us happy, 
To realize our union — trust me, love ! 
They but pretend to wish it. 

Max. But these Tertskys • 

Why use we them at all ? Why not your mother? 
Excellent creature ! she deserves from us 
A full and filial confidence. 

Thek. She doth love you, 

Doth rate you high before all others — but — 
But such a secret — she would never have 
The courage to conceal it from my father. 
For her own peace of mind we must preserve it 
A secret from her too. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF AVALLENSTEIN. 85 

Max. Why any secret? 

I love not secrets. Mark, what I will do. 
I'll throw me at your father's feet — let liim 
Decide upon my fortunes ! — He is true, 
He wears no mask — he hates all crooked ways — 
He is so good, so noble ! 

Thek. [_ falls on his nech.'] That are you ! 

Max. You knew him only since this morn ; 
but I 
Have lived ten years already in his presence, 
And who knows whether in this very moment 
He is not merely waiting for us both 
To own our loves, in order to unite us. 

You are silent ! 

You look at me with such a hopelessness ! 
What have you to object against your father? 

Theh. I ? Nothing. Only he's so occupied — 
He has no leisure time to think about 
The happiness of us two. [Taking his hand tenderly. 

Follow me ! 
Let us not place too great a faith in men. 
These Tertskys — we will still be grateful to them 
For every kindness, but not trust them further 

Than they deserve ; — and in all else rely 

On our own hearts ! 

Max. ! shall we e'er be happy ? 

Theh. Are we not happy now ? Art thou not 
mine ? 
Am I not thine ? There lives within my soul 
A lofty courage — 'tis love gives it me ! 



86 THE PICOOLOMINI; 

I ought to be less open — ought to hide 

My heart more from thee — so decorum dictates : 

But where in this place couldst thou seek for 

truth, 
If in my mouth thou didst not find it ? 

Scene VI. — To them enters the Countess Tertsky. 

Coun. \in a pressing manner.~\ Come ! 

My husband sends me for you. — It is now 
The latest moment, [they not appearing to attend 
to what she says, she steps between them.'] 
Part you ! 

Thet 0, not yet ! 

It has been scarce a moment. 

Coun. Ay ! Then time 

Fhes swiftly with your Highness, Princess niece ! 

3fax. There is no hurry, aunt. 

Coun. Away ! away ! 

The folks begin to miss you. Twice already 
His father has asked for him. 

Thek. Ha ! his father ? 

Coun. You understand that, niece ! 

ThcL Why needs he 

To go at all to that society ? 
*Tis not his proper company. They may 
Be worthy men, but he's too young for them. 
In brief, he suits not such society. 

Coun. You mean, you'd rather keep him wholly 
here ? 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 87 

Theh. [with energy.'] Yes ! you have hit it, 
aunt ! Thiit is my meaning. 
Leave him here wholly ! Tell the company — 
Goun. What? have you lost your senses, 



niece ? — 



Count, you remember the conditions. Come ! 
3Iax. [to TiiEKLA.] Lady, I must obey. Fare- 
well, dear lady ! 
[TiiEKLA turns aioay from him with a quick motion. 
What say you then, dear lady ? 

Theh [without looking at him.'] Nothing. Go ! 

Max. Can I, when you are angry 

[He draws up to her, their eyes vieet, she stands silent a 
moment, then throws herself into his arms ; he presses 
her fast to his heart. 
Coun. Off! Heavens ! if any one should come ! 

Hark 1 What's that noise ? It comes this way. • 

Off! 
[Max tears himself away out of her arms, and goes. The 
Countess accompanies him. TuEii.'LX follows him 
u-ith her eyes at first, walks restlessly across the room, 
then stops, and remains standing, lost in thought. A 
guitar lies on the table, she seizes it as by a sudden 
emotion, and after she has played awhile an irregular 
and melancholy symphony, she falls gradually into 
ilie music and sings. 

Thekla ( 'plays and sings). 

The cloud doth gather, the greenwood roar, 

The damsel paces along the shore; 

The billows they tumble with might, with might; 

Aud she flings out her voice to the darksome night; 



88 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

Her bosom is swelling with sorrow; 
The world it is empty, the heart will die, 
There's nothing to wish for beneath the sky: 
Thou Holy One, call thy child away! 
I've lived and loved, and that was to-day — 

Llake ready my grave-clothes to-morrow.* 

* I found it not in my power to translate this song with 
literal fidelity, preserving at the same time the Alcaic move- 
ment; and have therefore added the original Avith a prose 
translation. Some of my readers may be more fortunate. 

Thekl*a {sjndt und sincjt.) 

Der Eichwald brau^^et, die Wolken ziehn, 
Das Miigdlein wandelt an Ufers Griin, 
Es bricht sich die Welle rait ]\Iacht, mit ]\Iacht, 
Und sie singt hinaus in die finstre Nacht, 

Das Auge von Weinen getriibet: 
Das Herz ist gestorben, die Welt ist leer, 
Und weiter giebt sie dem Wunsche nichts mehr. 
Du Heilige, rufe dein Kind zuriick, 
Ich babe genossen das irdische Gliick, 

Ich habe gelebt und geliebet. 

Literal Translation. 
TiiEKLA (/j/(77/s and sings.) 

The oak-forest bellows, the clouds gather, the damsel walks 
to and fro on the green of the shore ; tlte wave breaks with 
might, with miglit, and she sings out into the dark night, her 
eye discoloured with weeping: The heart is dead, the world is 
empty, and further gives it nothing more to the wish. Thou 
Holy One, call tliy child home. I have enjoyed the happiness 
of this world, I have lived and have loved. 

I cannot but add here an imitation of this song, with which 
the author of " The Tale of Rosamund Gray and BUnd Mar- 
garet" lias favoured mo, and which appears to me to have 
caught the h;ii)picst manner of our old ballads. 



OKj THE FIRST PART OF WALLEXSTEIN. 89 

Scene VII.— Countess {returns,) Tiiekla, 
Coun. Fie, lady niece ! to throw yourself upon 
liim, 
Like a poor gift to one who cares not for it, 
And so must be flung after him ! For you, 
Duke Friedland's only child, I should have 

thought. 
It had been more beseeming to have shown 

yourself 
More chai-y of your person. - 

TheL [_nsinff.~\ And what mean you? 

Coun. I mean, niece, that you should not have 
forgotten 
Who ijou are, and who he is. But pe reliance 
That never once occuiTcd to you. 

Thek. What then ? 

Coun. That you are the daughter of the Prince 

Duke Friedland. 
TheL Well— and what farther ? 
Coun. What ? a pretty question ! 

Thek. He was horn that which we have but 
become. 

The cloiids are blackening, the storms threatenh-ig, 

The cavern doth mutter, the greenwood moan; 
Billows are breaking, the damsel's heart aching, 

Thus in the dark night she singeth alone, 
Her eye upward roving: 
The world is empty, the heart is dead surely, 

In this world ])lainly all seemeth amiss; 
To thy heaven. Holy One, take home thy little one, 

I have partaken of all earth's bhss. 
Both living and loving. 



90 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

He's of an ancient Lombard family, 
Son of a reigning princess. 

Coun. Are you dreaming ? 

Talking in sleep ? An excellent jest, forsooth ! 
We shall no doubt right courteously eyitreat 

him 
To honour with his hand the richest heiress 
In Europe. 

Thek. That will not be necessary. 

Coun. Methiuks 'twere well though not to run 

the hazard. 
Theh. His father loves him, Count Octavio 

"Will interpose no difficulty 

Coun. His ! 

His father! his! But yours, niece, what of 
yours? 
Theh. Why I begin to think you fear his father. 
So anxiously you hide it from the man ! 
His father, his, I mean. 

Coun. [looJcs at her as scrutinizing. ~\ Niece, you 

are false, 
Thek. Are you then wounded ? O, be friends 

witli me ! 
Coun. You hold your game for won already. 
Do not 
Triumph too soon ! — 

Thek. [interrupting her, and attempting to soothe 
her.] Nay now, be friends with me. 

Coun. It is not yet so far gone. 
Thek. I believe you. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 91 

Coun. Did you suppose your father had laid out 
His most important life in toils of war, 
Denied himself each quiet earthly bliss, 
Had banished slumber from his tent, devoted 
His noble head to care, and for this only. 
To make a happy pair of you ? At length 
To draw you from your convent, and conduct 
In easy triumph to your arms the man 
That chanced to please your eyes ! All this, me- 

thinks. 
He might have purchased at a cheaper rate. 
Thek. That which he did not plant for me might 

yet 
Bear me fair fruitage of its own accord. 
And if my friendly and affectionate fate, 
Out of his fearful and enormous being, 
AVill but prepare the joys of life for me — • 

Coun. Thou seest it with a lovelorn maiden's 

eyes. 
Cast thine eye round, bethink thee who thou art. 
Into no house of joyance hast thou stepped. 
For no espousals dost thou find the walls 
Decked out, no guests the nuptial garland wearing. 
Here is no splendour but of arms. Or think'st 

thou 
That all these thousands are here congregated 
To lead up the long dances at thy wedding? 
Thou seest thy father's forehead full of thought, 
Thy mother's eye in tears : upon the balance 
Lies the great destiny of all our house. 



yZ THE PICCOLOMTNI; 

Leave now the puny wish, the girlish feeling, 

thrust it far behind thee ! Give thou proof, 
Thou'rt the daughter of the Mighty — his 
"Who where he moves creates the wonderful. 
Not to herself the woman must belong, 
Annexed and bound to alien destinies. 

But she performs the best part, she the wisest, 
"Who can transmute the alien into self; 
Meet and disarm necessity by choice, 
And what must be, take freely to her heart, 
And bear and foster it with mother's love. 

Thek. Such ever was my lesson in the convent. 

1 had no loves, no wishes, knew myself 
Only as his — daughter — his, the Mighty ! 
His fame, the echo of whose blast drove to me 
From the far distance, wakened in my soul 
No other thought than this — I am appointed 
To offer up myself in passiveness to him. 

Coun. That is thy fate. Mould thou thy wishes 
to it. 
I and thy mother gave thee the example. 

T/ieh. My fate hath shown me him, to whom be- 
hoves it 
That I should offer up myself. In gladness 
Him will I follow. 

Coun. Not thy fate hath shown him ! 

Thy heart, say rather — 'twas thy heart, my child ! 
Theh. Fate hath no voice but the heart's im- 
pulses. 
I am all his ! His present — his alone, 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF TV ALLENSTEIN. 93 

Is tliis new life, which lives in me. He hath 
A right to his own creature. What was I 
Ere his fair love infused a soul into me ? 

Coun. Thou wouldst oppose thy father then, 
should he 
Have otherwise determined with thy person ? 

[Thekla remains silent. The Countkss continues. 
Thou meanest to force him to thy liking ? — Child, 
His name is Friedland. 

Thek. My name too is Friedland. 

He shall have found a genuine daugliter in me. 

Coun. What ? he has vanquished all impedi- 
ment, 
And in the wilful mood of his own daugliter 
Shall a new struggle rise for him ? Child ! child ! 
As yet thou hast seen thy father's smiles alone ; 
The eye of his rage thou hast not seen. Dear 

child, 
I will not frighten thee. To that extreme, 
I trust, it ne'er shall come. His will is yet 
Unknown to me : 'tis possible his aims 
May have the same direction as thy wish. 
But this can never, never be his will 
That thou, the daughter of his haughty fortunes, 
Should'st e'er demean thee as a lovesick maiden ; 
And hke some poor cost-nothing, fling thyself 
Toward the man, who, 2/ that high prize ever 
Be destined to await him, yet, with sacrifices 
The highest love can bring, must pay for it. 

[Exit Countess. 



94 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

Thek. \wlio during the last speech had heen lost 
in her rejections.'] I thank thee for the hint. It 

turns 
Mj sad presentiment to certainty. 
And it is so ! — Not one friend have we here, 
Not one true heart ! we've nothing but our- 
selves ! 

she said rightly — no auspicious signs 
Beam on this covenant of our affections. 
This is no theatre, where hope abides. 
The dull thick noise of war alone stirs here. 
And love himself, as he were armed in steel. 
Steps forth, and girds him for the strife of death. 

\^Music from the hanquet-room is heard. 

There's a dark spirit walking in our house, 
And swiftly will the Destiny close on us. 
It drove me hither from my calm asylurQ, 
It mocks my soul with charming witchery, 
It lures me forward in a seraph's shape, 

1 see it near, I see it nearer floating. 

It draws, it pulls me with a god-like power — 
And lo ! the abyss — and thither am I moving — 
I have no power within me not to move ! 

[The music from the hanquet-room becomes louder. 
when a house is doomed in fire to perish. 
Many a dark heaven drives his clouds together. 
Yea, shoots his lightnings down from sunny 

heights. 
Flames burst from out the subterraneous chasms, 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 95 

*And fiends and angels mingling in their fury, 
Sling firebrands at the burning edifice. 

[Exit Thekla. 



Scene VIII. — A large Saloon lighted up with festal splen- 
dour ; in the midst of it, and in the centre of the Stage, a 
Table richly set out, at which eight Generals are sitting, 
among whom are Octavio Piccolomini, Tertsky, 
and Makadas. Right and left of this, but farther back, 
two other 2\ihles, at each of which six Persons are placed. 
The Middle Door, which is standing open, gives to the 
Prospect a fourth Table, with the same number of Per- 
sons. More forward stands the Sideboard. The whole 
front of the Stage is kept open for the Pages and Servants 
in loaiting. All is in motion. The band of Music be- 
longing to Tertsky's Regiment march across the Stage, 
and draw up round the Tables. Before they are quite 
off from the Front of the Stage, Max Piccolomini 
appears, Tertsky advances towards him with a Paper, 
IsOLANi comes up to meet him with a Beaker or Service- 
cup. 

Tertsky, Isolani, Max Piccolomini. 

Iso. Here, brother, what we love ! Why, where 
hast been ? 
Off to thy place — quick ! Tertsky here has given 
The mother's holiday wine up to free booty. 

* There are few who will not have taste enough to laugh 
at the two concluding lines of this soliloquy ; and still fewer, I 
would fain hope, who would not have b«en more disposed to 
shudder, bad I given a faithful translation. For the readers 
of German I have added the oidginal: 

Blindwlithend schleudert selbst der Gott der Freude 
Den Pechkranz in das brenneude Gebiiude. 



96 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

Here it goes on as at the Heidelberg castle. 
Already hast thou lost the best. They're giving 
At yonder table ducal crowns in shares ; 
There's Sternberg's lands and chattels are put up, 
With Eggenberg's, Slawata's, Lichtenstein's, 
And all tlie great Bohemian feodalities. 
Be nimble, lad ! and something may turn up 
For thee — who knows ? off — to thy place ! quick ! 
march ! 

Tiefenhach and Goetz. \_call out from the second 
and third tables.'] Count Piccolomini ! 

Ter. Stop, ye shall have him in an instant. — 
Read 
This oath here, whether as 'tis here set forth, 
The wording satisfies you. They've all read it, 
Each in his turn, and each one will subscribe 
His individual signature. 

Max. [reads.'] " Ingratis servire nefas." 

Iso. That sounds to my ears very much like 
Latin, 
And being interpreted, pray what may't mean? 

Ter. No honest man will serve a thankless 
master. 

Max. " Inasmuch as our supreme Commander, 
the illustrious Duke of Friedland, in consequence 
of the manifold affronts and grievances which he 
has received, has expressed his determination to 
quit the Emperor, but on our unanimous entreaty 
has graciously consented to remain still with the 
army, and not to part from us without our appro- 



OK, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEm. 97 

batioii thereof, so we, collectivelj, and each in par- 
ticular, in tlie stead of an oath personally taken, 
do hereby oblige ourselves — likewise by him 
honourably and faithfully to hold, and in nowise 
whatsoever from him to part, and to be ready to 
shed for his interests the last drop of our blood, 
so far, namely, as our oath to the Emperor will 
permit it. [^IViese last words are repeated hy 
IsoLANi.] In testimony of which we subscribe 
our names." 

Ter. Now ! — are you willing to subscribe this 
paper ? 

Iso. Why should he not ? All officers of honour 
Can do it, ay, must do it. — Pen and ink here ! 

Ter. Nay, let it rest till after meal. 

Iso. \draioing Max along.~\ Come Max. 

\^Both seat themselves at their table. 



Scene IX. — Tertskt, Neumann. 

Ter. \l)ecl:o7is to Neumann, who is waiting at 
the side-table, and steps forward with him to the 
edge of the stage.'] Have you the copy with you, 

Neumann ? Give it. 
It may be ^changed for the other ? 

Neil. I have copied it 

Letter by letter, line by line ; n9 eye 
Would e'er discover other difference. 
Save only the omission of that clause. 
According to your Excellency's order. 

VOL. III. 7 



98 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

Ter. Right ! lay it yonder, and away with this — 
It has performed its business — to the fire with it — 
[Neumann lays the copy on the table, and steps back 
again to the side table. 



Scene X. — Illo (comes out from the second chamJber,) 
Tertskt. 

Illo. How goes it with young Piccolomini ? 

Ter. All right, I think. He has started no 
objection. 

Illo. He is the only one I fear about — 
He and his father. Have an eye on both ! 

Ter. How looks it at your table : you forget not 
To keep them warm and stirring ? 

Illo. O, quite cordial, 

They are quite cordial in the scheme. We have 

them. 
And 'tis as I predicted, too. Already 
It is the talk, not merely to maintain 
The Duke in station. " Since we're once for all 
Together and unanimous, why not," 
Says Montecuculi, " ay, why not onward, 
And make conditions with the Emperor 
There in his own Vienna ? " Trust me, Count, 
Were it not for these said Piccolomini, 
We might have spared ourselves the cheat. 

Ter. And Butler? 

How goes it there ? Hush I 



OR, THE FIRST PART OP WALLENSTEIN. 99 

Scene XI. — To them enter Butler /ro?« tie second table. 

But. Don't disturb yourselves. 

Field Marshal, I have understood you perfectly. 
Good luck be to the scheme ; and as to me, 

[ With an air of mystery. 
You may depend upon me. 

lUo. \_with vivacity.'] May we, Butler ? 

But. With or without the clause, all one to me! 
You understand me ? j\[y fidelity 
The Duke may put to any proof — I'm with him ! 
Tell him so ! I'm the Emperor's officer, 
As long as 'tis his pleasure to remain 
The Emperor's general ! and Friedland's servant, 
As soon as it shall please him to become 
His own lord. 

Ter. You would make a good exchange. 

No stern economist, no Ferdinand, 
Is he to whom you j^light your services. 

But. \_with a haughty looh.~\ I do not put up my 
fidelity 
To sale. Count Tertsky ! Half a year ago 
I would not have advised you to have made me 
An overture to that, to which I now 
Offer myself of my own free accord. — 
But that is past ! and to the Duke, Field Marshal, 
[ bring myself together with my regiment. 
And mark you, 'tis my humour to believe. 
The example which I give will not remain 
Without an influence. 

lllo. Who is ignorant. 



100 TilE PICCOLOMINI ; 

That the whole army look to Colonel Butler, 
As to a light that moves before them ? 

But. Ej ? 

Then I repent me not of that fidelity 
Which for the length of forty years I held, 
If in my sixtieth year my old good name 
Can purchase for me a revenge so full. 
Start not at what I say, sir Generals ! 
My real motives — they concern not you. 
And you yourselves, I trust, could not expect 
That this your game had crooked my judgment — or 
That fickleness, quick blood, or such light cause. 
Had driven the old man from the track of honour, 
"Which he so long had trodden. — Come, my friends ! 
I'm not thereto determined with less firmness. 
Because I know and have looked steadily 
At that on which I have determined. 

lllo. Say, 

And speak roundly, what are we to deem you ? 

But. A friend ! I give you here my hand ! I'm 
yours 
With all I have. Not only men, but money 

Will the Duke want. Go, tell him, sirs ! 

I've earned and laid up somewhat in his service, 

I lend it him ; and is he my survivor, 

It has been already long ago bequeathed him. 

He is my heir. For me, I stand alone. 

Here in the world ; nought know I of the feeling 

That binds the husband to a wife and children. 

My name dies with me, my existence ends. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 101 

lllo. 'Tis not your money that he needs — a heart 
Like yours weighs tons of gold down, weighs down 
millions I 

But. I came a simple soldier's boy from Ireland 
To Prague — and with a master, whom I buried. 
From lowest stable duty I climbed up, 
Such was the fate of war, to this high rank, 
The plaything of a whimsical good fortune. 
And Wallenstein too is a child of luck, 
I love a fortune that is like my own. 

lllo. All powerful souls have kindred with each 
other. 

But. This is an awful moment ! to the brave, 
To the determined, an auspicious moment. 
The Prince of Weimar arms, upon the Maine 
To found a mighty dukedom. He of Halberstadt, 
That IMansfeld, wanted but a longer life 
To have marked out with his good sword a lord- 
ship 
That should reward his courage. Who of these 
Equals our Friedland ? There is nothing, nothing 
So high, but he may set the ladder to it ! 

Ter. That's spoken like a man ! 

But. Do you secure the Spaniard and Italian — 
I'll be your warrant for the Scotchman Lesly. 
Come ! to the company ! 

Ter. Where is the master of the cellar ? Ho f 
Let the best wines come up. Ho ! cheerly, boy ! 
XiUck comes to-day, so give her hearty welcome. 

[Exeunt^ each to his table. 



102 THE PICCOLOIVITNI 



Scene XII. — The Master of the Cellar advancing with 
Neumann, Servants passing backwards and forwards. 

Mast of the Cel The best wine! O! if my old 
mistress, his lady mother, could but see these wild 
goings on, she would turn herself round in her 
grave. Yes, yes, sir officer ! 'tis all down the hill 
with this noble house ! no end, no moderation ! 
And this marriage with the Duke*s sister, a splendid 
connection, a very splendid connection ! but I tell 
you, sir officer, it bodes no good. 

Neu. Heaven forbid ! Why, at this very moment 
the whole prospect is in bud and blossom ! 

Mast, of the Cel You think so ? — Well, well ! 
much may be said on that head. 

\st. Ser. [^comes.'] Burgundy for the fourth table. 

Mast, of the Cel Now, sir lieutenant, if this 
isn't the seventieth flask 

1st. Ser. Why, the reason is, that German lord, 
Tiefenbach, sits at that table. 

3fasf. of the Cel [co7it{nuing his discourse to 
Neumann.] They are soaring too high. They 
would rival kings and electors in their pomp and 
splendour; and wherever the Duke leaps, not a 
minute does my gracious master, the Count, loiter 

on the brink. [to the Servants.] — What do you 

stand there listening for? I will let you know you 
have legs presently. Off! see to the tables, see to 
the flasks ! Look there ! Count Palfi has an empty 
glass before him ! 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 103 

Runner. \_comes.~\ The great service-cup is 
wanted, sir ; that rich gold cup with the Bohemian 
arms on it. The Count says you know which it is. 

3Iast. of the Cel. Ay ! that was made for Frede- 
rick's coronation by the artist William — there was 
not such another prize in the whole booty at 
Prague. 

Runner. The same ! — a health is to go round 
in hira. 

Mast, of the Cel. [shaking his head, while he 
fetches and rinses the cup.~\ This will be some- 
thing for the tale-bearers — this goes to Vienna. 

Neu. Permit me to look at it. — Well, this is a 
cup indeed ! How heavy ! as well it may be, be- 
ing all gold. — And what neat things are embossed 
on it ! how natural and elegant they look ! There 
on that first quarter, let me see. That proud 
Amazon there on horseback, she that is taking a 
leap over the crosier and mitres, and carries on a 
wand a hat together with a banner, on which 
there's a goblet represented. Can you tell me 
what all this signifies ? 

3Iast of the Cel. The woman whom you see 
there on horseback, is the Free Election of the 
Bohemian Crown. That is signified by the round 
hat, and by that fiery steed on which she is riding. 
The hat is the pride of man ; for he who cannot keep 
his hat on before kings and emperors is no free 
man. 

Neu. But what is the cup there on the banner? 



104 THE FICCOLOMINI; 

Mast, of the Cel. The cup signifies the freedom 
of the Bohemian Church, as it was in our fore- 
fathers' times. Our forefathers in the wars of the 
Hussites forced from the Pope this noble privilege : 
for the Pope, you know, will not grant the cup to 
any Inyman. Your true Moravian values notliing 
beyond the cup ; it is his costly jewel, and has 
cost the Boiiemians their precious blood in many 
and many a battle. 

Neu. And what says that chart that hangs in 
the air there, over it all ? 

Mast, of the Cel. That signifies the Bohemian 
letter royal, which we forced from the Emperor 
Kudolph — a precious, never-to-be-enough valued 
parchment, that secures to the new Church the 
old privileges of free ringing and open psalmody. 
But since he of Steiermark has ruled over us, 
that is at an end ; and after the battle at Prague, 
in which Count Palatine Frederick lost crown 
and empire, our faith hangs upon the pulpit and 
the altar — and our brethren look at their homes 
over their shoulders ; but the letter royal the 
Emperor himself cut to pieces with his scissors. 

Neu. Why, my good Master of the Cellar ! you 
are deep read in the chronicles of your country ! 

Mast, of the Cel. So were my forefathers, and 
for that reason were they minstrels, and served 
under Procopius and Ziska. Peace be with their 
ashes ! Well, well ! they fought for a good cause 
though — There ! carry it up ! 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 105 

Neu. Stay ! let me but look at this second 
quarter. Look there ! That is, when at Prague 
Castle the Imperial Counsellors, IMartinitz and 
Slawata, were hurled down head over heels. 
'Tis even so ! there stands Count Thurn who com- 
mands it. 

[Runner tahes the service-cvp and goes off with it. 

3fast. of the Cel. O let me never more hear of 
that day. It was the three-and-twentieth of May, 
in the year of our Lord one thousand, six hundred, 
and eighteen. It seems to me as it weie but yes- 
terday — from that unlucky day it all began, all 
the heart-aches of the country. Since that day 
it is now sixteen years, and there has never once 
been peace on the earth. 

[Health drunk aloud eit the second table. 

The Prince of Weimar ! Hurra ! 

[At the third and fourth table. 

Long live Prince William ! Long live Duke 
Bernard I Hurra ! [Music strikes up. 

1st Ser. Hear 'em ! Hear 'em! What an uproar ! 

2iid Ser. [comes in running.'] Did jou Jiear ? 
They have drunk the Prince of Weimar's health. 

^rd Ser. The Swedish Chief Commander ! 

1st Ser. [speaking at the same time.] The Lu- 
theian ! 

2nd Ser. Just before when Count Deodati 
gave out the Emperor's health, they were all as 
mum as a nibbling mouse. 

Mast, of the Cel. Poh, poh ! When the wine 



106 TRE ricooLOMiNi; 

goes in, strange things cosne out. A good servant 
hears, and hears not ! — You should be nothing 
but eyes and feet, except Avhen you are called. 

^nd Ser. [^to the Runner, to whom he gives 
secretly a flask of ivine, keeping his eye on the 
Master of the Cellar, standing between him and 
the Runner.] Quick, Thomas ! before the Master 
of the Cellar runs this way ! — 'tis a flask of Fron- 
tignac ! — Snapped it up at the third table. — Canst 
go off with it? 

Run, Uddes it in his pocket.'] All right ! 

[Exit the Second Servant, 

8rd Ser. [^aside to the First.] Be on the hark, 
Jack ! that we may have right plenty to tell to 
Father Quivoga — lie will give us right plenty of 
absolution in return for it. 

1st Ser. For that very purpose I am always 
having something to do behind Illo's ciiair. — He 
is the man for speeches to make you stare with ! 

Hast, of the Cel. [to Neumann.] Who, pray, 
may that swarthy man be, he with the cross, that 
is chatting so confidentially with Esterhats ? 

Nen, Ay ! he too is one of those to whom they 
confide too much. He calls himself Maradas, a 
Spaniard is he. 

Mast, of the Cel. [impatiently.] Spaniard ! 
Spaniard ! — I tell you, friend ; nothing good comes 
of those Spaniards. All these outlandish * fel- 
lows are little better than rogues. 

* There is a humour in the original which cannot be given 



OR, THE FIRST TART OF WALLENSTEIN. 107 

Neu. Fy, fj ! you should not say so, friend. 
There are among them our very best generals, 
and those on whom the Duke at this moment 
relies the most. 

Ilust. of the Cell, [taldng the flash out of the 
Runner's 'packet.'] My son, it will be broken to 
pieces in your pocket. 

[Tertsky harries in fetches away the paper, and calls 
to a Servant for pen and ink^ and goes to the hack 
of the stage. 

Mast, of the Cel. [^o ^^c Servants.] The Lieu- 
tenant-General stands up. — Be on the watch. — 
Now ! They break up. — Off, and move back the 
forms. 

[They rise at all the taLles ; the Servants hurry off the 
front of the stage to the tables ; pari of the Guests 
come foncard. 

Scene XIII. — Octavio Piccolomini enters in conversa- 
tion u-ith Maradas, and both place themselves quite on 
the edge of the stage on one side of the proscenium. On the 
side directly opposite, Max Piccolomini, by himself, 
lost in thought, and taking no part in any thing that is 
gaiiiq foru-ard. The middle space between both, but rather 
more distant from the edge of the stage, is filed up by 
Butler, Isolani, Goetz, Tiefenbach, a7id Ko- 
la lto. 

in the trniiplation. "Die Welschen alle," &c. which word in 
classical German means the Italians alone; but in its first 
sense, and at present in the vulgnr nse of the word, signifies 
foreipiers in oenernl. Our word wall-nuts, I suppose, means 
ouilaiwjfh nuts — W;;iU-.> r.nces, in German " Welsch-niisse." 



108 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

Iso. [ichile the company is coming forward.'^ 
Good night, good night, Kolalto ! Good night, 
Lieutenant- General ! — I should rather saj, good 
morning. 

Goeiz. \^to TiEFENBACH, making the usual com- 
pliment after meals.'\ Noble brother ! 

Tief. Ay ! 'twas a royal feast indeed. 

Goetz. Yes, my Lady Countess understands 
these matters. Her mother-in-law, heaven rest 
her soul, taught her ! — Ah ! that was a house- 
wife for you ! 

Tief, There was not her like in all Bohemia 
for setting out a table. 

Oct. [_aside to Maradas.] Do me the favour to 
talk to me — talk of what you will — or of notliing. 
Only preserve the a^jpearance at least of talking. 
I would not wish to stand by myself, and yet I 
conjectui'e that there will be goings on here wor- 
thy of our attentive observation. 

[He continues to Jix his eye on the whole following scene, 
Iso, [on the point of going.'] Ligiits ! lights ! 

Ter. [advances with the paper to Isolani.] 
Noble brother ! two minutes longer ! — Here is 
something to subscribe. 

Iso. Subscribe as much as you like — but you 
must excuse me from reading it. 

Ter. There is no need. It is the oath which 
you liave already read. — Only a few marks of 
your pen ! 

[Isolani hands over the paper to Octavio respectfully. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 109 

Ter. Nay, nay, first come first served. There 

is no precedence here. 

[OcTAVio runs over the paper icith apparent indiffer- 
ence. Tertskt watches him at some distance. 

Goetz. \to Tertsky.] Noble Count ! with your 
permission — Good night. 

Ter. Where's the hurry? Come, one other 
composing draught. [ To the Servants.] — Ho ! 

Goetz. Excuse me — an't able. 

Ter. A thimble-full ! 

Goetz. Excuse me. 

Tief. [sits down.'] Pardon me, nobles ! — This 
standing does not agree with me. 

Ter. Consult only your own convenience, Ge- 
neral ! 

Tief. Clear at head, sound in stomach — only 
my legs won't carry me any longer. 

Iso. [pointing at his corpulence."] Poor legs ! 
how should they ? Such an unmerciful load ! 

[OcTAVio subscribes his name, and reaches over the paper 
to Tertsky, icho gives it to Isolaxi ; and he goes 
to the table to sign his name. 

Tief. 'Twas that war in Pomerania that first 
brought it on. Out in all weathers — ice and 
snow — no help for it. — I shall never get the bet- 
ter of it all the days of my life. 

Goetz. Why, in simple verity, your Swede 
makes no nice inquiries about the season. 

Ter. [observing Isolani, whose Jiand tremUes 
excessively, so that he can scarce direct his pen.] 



N 



110 THE PICCOLO.MIXI ; 

Have you had that ugly complaint long, noble 
brother ? — Dispatch it. 

Iso. The sins of youth ! I have already tried 
the Chalybeate waters. Well — I must bear it. 
[Tertskt gives the paper to Maradas ; he steps to the 
table to subscribe. 

Oct. [^advancing to Butler.] You are not over 
fond of the orgies of Bacchus, Colonel ! I have 
observed it. You would, I think, find yourself 
more to your liking in the uproar of a battle, than 
of a feast. 

But. I must confess, 'tis not in my way. 
Oct. [stepping nearer to Mm, friendl\ly.'\ Nor 
in mine either, I can assure you ; and I am not 
a little glad, my much honoured Colonel Butler, 
that we agree so well in our opinions. A half 
dozen good friends at most, at a small round table, 
a glass of genuine Tokay, open hearts, and a 
rational conversation — that's my taste ! 
But. And mine too, when it can be had. 
[The paper comes to Tiepenbach, who glances over 
it at the same time with Goetz and Kolalto. 
Maradas in the mean time returns to Octavio ; 
all this takes place, the conversation with Butler 
proceeding un interrupted. 

Oct. [introducing 'Mkrxdx^ to Butlek.] Don 
Balthasar Maradas ! likewise a man of our stamp, 
and long ago your admirer. [Butler boivs. 

Oct. [contimmig.'j You are a stranger here — 
'twas but yesterday you arrived — you are igno- 
rant of the ways and means here. 'Tis a wretched 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. Ill 

place — I know, at our age, one loves to be snug 
and quiet — What if you moved your lodgings ? — 
Come, be my visitor. [Butler makes a low 
how.'\ Nay, without compliment ! — For a friend 
like you, I have still a corner remaining. 

But. l^coldly.'] Your obliged humble servant, My 
Lord Lieutenant- General ! 

[The paper comes to Butler, W20 goes to the table to 
subscribe it. The front of the stage is vacant, so 
that both the Piccolominis, each on the side where 
he had been from the commencement of the scene, re- 
main alone. 

Oct. \_after having some time watched his son 
in silence, advances somewhat nearer to him.'] 
You were long absent from us, friend ! 

Max. I urgent business detained me. 

Oct. And, I observe, you are still absent ! 

3fax. You know this crowd and bustle always 
makes me silent. 

Oct. May I be permitted to ask what business 
'twas that detained you ? Tertsky knows it with- 
out asking ! 

Max. What does Tertsky know ? 

Oct. He was the only one who did not miss you. 

Iso. \who has been attending to them from some 
distance, steps vp.] Well done, father ! Rout out 
his baggage ! Beat up his quarters ! there is 
something there that should not be. 

Ter. [with the paper.] Is there none wanting ? 
Have the whole subscribed ? 



112 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

OcL AU. 

Ter. [calling aloud.] Ho ! Who subscribes ? 

But. [to Tertsky.] Count the names. There 
ought to be just thirty. 

Ter. Here is a cross. 

Tief. That's my mark. 

Iso. He cannot write ; but his cross is a good 
cross, and is honoured by Jews as well as Chris- 
tians. 

Oct. [presses on to Max.] Come, General ! 
let us go. It is late. 

Ter. One Piccolomini only has signed. 

Iso. [fointing to Max.] Look ! that is your 
man, that statue there, who has had neither eye, 
ear, nor tongue for us the whole evening. 

[Max receives the paper from Tertsky, which he looks 
upon vacantly. 

Scene XIV. — To these enter Illo from theinnerroom. He 
has in his hand the golden service-cup^ and is extremely 
distempei'ed ivith drinking; Goetz and Butler /b/- 
low him, endeavouring to keep him hack. 

lllo. What do you want ? Let me go. 

Goetz arid But. Drink no more, lllo ! For 
heaven's sake drink no more. 

lllo. [goes up to Octavio and shakes him cor' 
diaUy hy the hand, and then drinks.] Octavio ! I 
bring this to you. Let all grudge be drowned in 
this friendly bowl ! I know well enough, ye never 
loved me — Devil take me ! — and I never loved 



OR, THE yiKST PART OF WALLEXSTEIN. 113 

you ! — I am always even with people in that 
way ! — Let what's past be past — that is, you 
understand — forgotten ! I esteem you infinitely. 
[Embraci/iff kirn repeatedly.'] You have not a 
dearer friend on earth than I — but that you know. 
The fellow that cries rogue to you calls me vil- 
lain — and I'll strangle him ! — my deai- friend ! 

Ter. [whispering to him.'\ Art in thy senses ? 
For heaven's sake, Illo ! think where you are ! 

lllo. [aloud.~\ What do you mean ? — There are 
none but friends here, are there? [LooJcs round 
the whole circle with a jolly and triumphant air."] 
Not a sneaker among us, thank heaven ! 

Ter. [^o Butler, ea^er^y.] Take him off with 
you, force him off, I enln-eat you, Butler ! 

But. \to Illo.] Field Marshal ! a word with 
you ! [Leads him to the side-board. 

Illo. A thousand for one ; Fill — fill it once 
more up to the brim. — To this gallant man's 
health ! 

Iso. [to Max ivho all the while has been star- 
ing on the paper 'with fixed hut vacant eyes.] Slow 
and sure, my noble brother ? — Hast parsed it all 
yet ? — Some words yet to go through ? — Ha ? 

Max. [ivahing up) as from a dreani.~\ What 
am I to do ? 

Ter. [and at the same time Isolani.] Sign 
your name. 

[OcTAViO directs his eyes on him ivith intense anxiety. 

Max. [returns the paper."] Let it stay till to- 
vol. III. 8 



114 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

morrow. It is business — to-dav I am not suffi- 
ciently collected. Send it to me to-morrow. 

Ter, Nay, collect yourself a little. 

Iso. Awake, man ! awake ! — Come, thy signa- 
ture, and have done with it ! What ? Thou art 
the youngest in the whole company, and wouldest 
be wiser than all of us together? Look there! 
thy father has signed — we have all signed. 

Ter. \to OcTAVio.] Use your influence. In- 
struct him. 

Oct. My son is at the age of discretion. 

Illo. \leaves the service-cup on the side-hoard.'] 
What's the dispute ? 

Ter. He declines subscribing the paper. 

Max. I say, it may as well stay till to-morrow. 

Illo. It cannot stay. We have all subscribed 
to it — and so must you. — You must subscribe. 

Max. Illo ; good night ! 

Illo. No ! You come not off so ! The Duke 
shall learn who are his friends. 

\^AU collect round Illo and M.\x. 

Max. What my sentiments are towards the 
Duke the Duke knows, every one knows — what 
need of this wild stuff? 

Illo. This is the thanks the Duke gets for his 
partiality to Italians and foreigners. — Us Bohe- 
mians he holds for little better than dullards — 
nothing pleases him but what's outlandish. 

Ter. [in extreme embarrassment, to the Com- 
manders, who at Illo's wo7'ds give a sudden 



oil, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 115 

Start, as preparing to resent them.'] It is the Aviiie 
that speaks, and not his reason. Attend not to 
him, I entreat you. 

Iso. [with a hitter laugh.'] Wine invents no- 
thing : it only tattles. 

Illo. He Avho is not with me, is against me 
Your tender consciences ! Unless they can shj 
out by a back-door, by a puny proviso 

Ter. [inferrujJting him.'] He is stark mad — 
don't listen to him ! 

Illo. [raising his voice to the highest pitch.] 
Unless they can slip out by a proviso. What of 
the proviso ? The devil take this proviso ! 

Max. [has his attention roused and looks again 
into the paper.] What is there here then of such 
perilous import ? You make me curious — I must 
look closer at it. 

Ter. [in a low voice to Illo.] What are you 
doing, Illo ? You are ruining us. 

Tief. [to KoLALTO.] Ay, ay! I observed, 
that before we sat down to supper, it was read 
differently. 

Goetz. Why, I seemed to think so too. 

Iso. What do I care for that ? Where there 
stand other names, mine can stand too. 

Tief. Before supper there was a certain pro 
viso therein, or short clause concerning our duties 
to the Emperor. 

But. [to one of the Commanders.] For shame, 
for shame ! Bethink you. What is the main 



116 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

business here? The question now is, whether 
we shall keep our General, or let him retire. 
One must not take these things too nicely and 
over-scrupulouslj. 

Iso. [to one of the Generals.] Did the Duke 
make any of these provisos when he gave you 
your regiment ? 

Ter. [to GoETZ.] Or when he gave you the 
office of army purveyancer, which brings you in 
yearly a thousand pistoles ! 

Illo. He is a rascal who makes us out to be 
rogues. If there be any one that wants satis- 
faction, let him say so, I am his man. 

Tief. Softly, softly ! 'Twas but a word or two. 

Max. \Jiaving read the paper gives it hach'] 
Till to-morrow, therefore ! 

Illo. [stammering with rage and fury ^ loses all 
command over himself and presents the paper to 
Max with one hand, and his sword in the other.l 
Subscribe — Judas ! 

Iso. Out upon you, Illo ! 

Oct. Ter. But. [all together.'] Down with the 
sword ! 

Max. [rushes on him suddenly and disarms 
him, then to Count Tektsky.] Take him off to 
bed. 

[IVLvx leaves the stage. Illo cursing and raving ia 
held back by some of the officers, and amidst a uni- 
versal confusion the curtain drops. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 117 



ACT m. 

Scene I. — A Chamber in Piccolomini's Mansion. It is 
Ni(/ht, OcTAvio PiccoLOMiKi. A Valet de Chain- 
brc, with Lights. 

Oct. And when my son comes in, conduct 

him hither. 
What is the hour ? 

Valet. 'Tis on the point of morning. 

Oct. Set down the light. We mean not to 
undress. 
You may retire to sleep. 

[^Exit Valet. Octavio paces, musing, across the Cham- 
ber. Max PiccOLOMixi enters unobserved, and 
looks at his father for some moments in siltnce. 

Max. Art thou offended with me? Heaven 
knows 

That odious business was no fault of mine. 

'Tis true, indeed, I saw thy signature. 

What thou hadst sanctioned, should not, it might 
seem, 

Have come amiss to me. But — 'tis my nature — 

Thou know'st that in such matters I must follow 

My own hght, not another's. 

Oct. \_goes up to him and embraces Mm.'] Fol- 
low it, 



118 THE PICCOLOMINl; 

follow it still further, my best son ! 
To-night, dear boy ! it hath more faithfully 
Guided thee than the example of thy father. 

3Iax. Declare thyself less darkly. 

Oct. I will do so, 

For after what has taken place this night, 
There must remain no secrets 'twixt us two. 

l^Both seat themselves 

Max Piccolomini ! what think'st thou of 
The oath that was sent round for signatures ? 

Max. I hold it for a thing of harmless import, 
Although I love not these set declarations. 

Oct. And on no other ground hast thou refused 
The signature they fain had wrested from thee ? 

Max. It was a serious business 1 was ab- 
sent — 
The affair itself seemed not so urgent to me. 

Oct. Be open, Max. Thou hadst then no sus- 
picion ? 

Max. Suspicion ! what suspicion ? Not the 
least. 

Oct. Thank thy good angel, Piccolomini : 
He drew thee back unconscious from the abyss. 

Max. 1 know not what thou meanest, 

Oct. I will tell thee. 

Fain would they have extorted from thee, son, 
The sanction of thy name to villany ; 
Yea, with a single flourish of thy pen. 
Made thee renounce thy duty and thy honour I 

Max. [rises.'] Octavio ! 



OK, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 119 

Oct. Patience ! Seat yourself. Much yet 

Hast thou to hear from me, friend ! — hast for years 
Lived in incomprehensible illusion. 
Before thine eyes is treason drawing out 
As black a web as e'er w^as spun for venom : 
A power of hell o'erclouds thy understanding. 
I dare no longer stand in silence — dare 
No longer see thee wandering on in darkness, 
Nor pluck the bandage from thine eyes. 

3fax. My father ! 

Yet, ere thou speak'st, a moment's pause of 

thought ! 
If your. disclosures should appear to be 
Conjectures only — and almost I fear 
They will be nothing further — spare them ! I 
Am not in tliat collected mood at present. 
That I could listen to them quietly. 

Oct. The deeper cause thou hast to hate this 

light. 
The more impatient cause have I, my son, 
To force it on thee. To the innocence 
And wisdom of thy heart I could have trusted 

thee 
With calm assurance — ^but I see the net 
Preparing — and it is thy heart itself 
Alarms me for thine innocence — that secret, 

[Fixing his ej/e steadfast/ 1/ on his son's /ace. 
Which thou concealest, forces mine from me. 

[Max attempts to answer, but hesitates, and casts his 

eyes to the ground, embarrassed. 



120 THE piccoLOMiNi ; 

Oct. [after a 'pause.'] Know, then, they are 
duping thee ! — a most foul game 
With thee and with us all — nay, hear me calmly — 
The Duke even now is playing. He assumes 
The mask, as if he would forsake the army : 
And in this moment makes he preparations 
That army from the Emperor to steal, 
And carry it over to the enemy ! 

Max. Tliat low priest's legend I know well, but 
did not 
Expect to hear it from thy mouth. 

Oct. That mouth, 

From which thou hearest it at this present mo- 
ment. 
Doth warrant thee that it is no priest's legend. 
3fax. How mere a maniac they supposed the 
Duke ; 
What, he can meditate ? — the Duke ? — can dream 
That he can lure away full thirty thousand 
Tried troops and true, all honourable soldiers, 
More than a thousand noblemen among them, 
From oaths, from duty, from their honour lure 

them, 
And make them all unanimous to do 
A deed that brands them scoundrels ? 

Oct. Such a deed 

With such a front of infamy, the Duke 
No wise desires — what be requires of us 
Bears a ftir gentler appellation. Nothing 
He \^^shes, but to give the Empire peace. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 121 



And so, because the Emperor hates tliis peace, 
Therefore the Duke — the Duke will force him 

to it. 
All parts of the Empire will he pacify, 
And for his trouble will retain in payment 
(What he has already in his gripe) — Bohemia ! 

3Iax. Has he, Octavio, merited of us. 
That we — that we should think so vilely of him ? 
Oct. AVhat we would think is not the question 

here. 
The aflliu- speaks for itself — and clearest proofs ! 
Hear me, my son — 'tis not unknown to thee, 
In what ill credit with the Court we stand. 
But little dost thou know, or guess, what tricks, 
\Yhat base intrigues, what lying artifices. 
Have been employed — for this sole end — to sow 
Mutiny in the camp ! All bands are loosed — 
Loosed all the bands, that link the officer 
To his liege Emperor, all that bind the soldier 
Affectionately to the citizen. 
Lawless he stands, and threateningly beleaguers 
The state he's bound to guard. To such a 

height 
'Tis swoln, that at this hour the Emperor 
Before his armies — his own armies — trembles ; 
Yea, in his capital, his palace, fears 
The traitor's poniards, and is meditating 

To hurry off and hide his tender off-pring ■ 

Not from the Swedes, not from the Lutherans- 
No ; from his own troops hide and hurry them! 



122 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

3fax. Cease, cease ! tliou torturest, shattcr'st 
me. I know 
That oft we tremble at an empty terror ; 
But the false phantasm brings a real misery. 

Oct. It is no phantasm. An intestine war, 
Of all the most unnatural and cruel, 
Will burst out into flames, if instantly 
We do not fly and stifle it. The Generals 
Are many of them long ago won over ; 
The subalterns are vacillating — whole 
Regiments and garrisons are vacillating. 
To foreigners our strong-holds are entrusted; 
To that suspected Schafgotscliisthe whole 
Force of Silesia given up : to Tertsky 
Five regiments, foot and horse — to Isolani, 
To Illo, Kinsky, Butler, the best troops. 

Max. Likewise to both of us. 

Oct. Because the Duke 

Believes he has secured us— means to lure us, 
Still further on by splendid promises. 
To m(i he portions forth the princedoms, Glatz 
And Sagan ; and too plain I see the angle 
With which he doubts not to catch thee. 

3Iax. No ! no ! 

I tell thee — no ! 

Oct. O open yet thine eyes ! 

And to what purpose think'st thou he has 

called us 
Hither to Pilsen ? — to avail himself 
Of our advice? — when did Friedland ever 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 123 

Need our advice ? — Be calm, and listen to me. 
To sell ourselves are we called hither, and, 
Decline we that — to be his hostages. 
Therefore doth noble Gallas stand aloof! 
Thy father, too, thou would'st not have seen here, 
If higher duties had not held him fettered. 

Max. He makes no secret of it — needs make 

none — 
That we're called hither for his sake — he owns it. 
He needs our aidance to maintain himself — 
He did so much for us ; and 'tis but fair 
That we too should do somewhat now for him. 
Oct. And know'st thou what it is which we 

must do ? 
That Illo's drunken mood betrayed it to thee. 
Bethink thyself — what hast thou heard, what 

seen? 
The counterfeited paper — the omission 
Of that particular clause, so full of meaning. 
Does it not prove, that they would bind us down 
To nothing good ? 

Max. That counterfeited paper 

Appears to me no other than a trick 
Of Illo's own device. These underhand 
Traders in great men's interests ever use 
To urge and hurry all things to the extreme. 
They see the Duke at variance with the court, 
And fondly think to serve him, when they widen 
The breach irreparably. Trust me, father, 
The Duke knows nothing: of all this. 



124. THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

Oct. It grieves me 

That I must dash to earth, that I must shatter 
A faith so specious ; but I may not spare thee! 
For this is not a time for tenderness. 
Thou must take measures, speedy ones — must act. 
I therefore will confess to thee, that all 
Which I've entrusted to thee now — that all 
Which seems to thee so unbelievable, 
That — yes, I will tell thee — [^ pause.'] Max ! I 

had it all 
From his own mouth — from the Duke's mouth I 
had it. 

Max. \jn excessive agitation.'] No ! — no ! — 
never ! 

Oct. Himself confided to me, 
What I, 'tis true, had long before discovered 
By other means — himself confided to me. 
That 'twas his settled plan to join the Swedes ; 
And, at the head of the united armies, 
Compel the Emperor 

Max. He is passionate. 

The Court has stung him — he is sore all over 
With injuries and affronts; and in a moment 
Of irritation, what if he, for once. 
Forgot himself? He's an impetuous man. 

Oct. Nay, in cold blood he did confess this to me : 
And having construed my astonishment 
Into a scruple of his power, he showed me 
His written evidences — showed me letters, 
Both from the Saxon and the Swede, that gave 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF AYALLENSTEIN. 125 

Promise of aidance, and deiin'd th' amount. 

Max. It cannot be ! — can not be ! can not be ! 
Dost thou not see, it cannot ! 
Thou wouldest of necessity have shown him 
Such horroi', such deep loathing — that or he 
Had tak'n thee for his better genius, or 
Thou stood'st not now a living man before me — 

Oct. I have laid open my objections to him, 
Dissuaded him with pressing earnestness ; 
But my abhorrence, the full sentiment 
Of my whole heart — that I have still kept sacred 
To my own consciousness. 

Max. And thou hast been 

So treacherous ! That looks not like my father ! 
I trusted not thy words, when thou didst tell me 
Evil of him ; much less can I now do it. 
That thou calumniatest thy own self. 

Oct. I did not thrust myself into his secrecy. 

Max. Uprightness merited his confidence. 

Oct. He was no longer worthy of sincerity. 

Max. Dissimulation, sure, was still less worthy 
Of thee, Octavio ! 

Oct. Gave I him a cause 

To entertain a scruple of my honour ? 

Max. That he did not, evinc'd his confidence. 

Oct. Dear son, it is not always possible 
Still to preserve that infant purity 
Which the voice teaches in our inmost heart. 
Still in alarm, for ever on the watch 
Against the wiles of wicked men, e'en Virtue 



126 THE PICCOLOMIXI; 

"Will sometimes bear away her outward robes 
Soiled in the wrestle with Iniquity. 
This is the curse of every evil deed, 
That, propagating still, it brings forth evil. 
I dc nol. cheat my better soul with sophisms : 
I but perform my orders ; the Emperor 
Prescribes my conduct to me. Dearest boy, 
Far better were it, doubtless, if we all 
Obeyed the heart at all times ; but so doing, 
In this our present sojourn with bad men, 
We must abandon many an honest object. 
'Tis now our call to serve the Emperor 
By what means he can best be served — the heart 
May whisper what it will — this is our call ! 

Max. It seems a thing appointed, that to-day 
I should not comprehend, not understand thee. 
The Duke thou say'st did honestly pour out 
His heart to thee, but for an evil purpose ; 
And thou dishonestly hast cheated him 
For a good purpose ! Silence, I entreat thee — • 
My friend thou stealest not from me — 
Let me not lose my father ! 

Oct. [suppressing resentment.'] As yet thou 
know'st not all, my son. I have 
Yet somewhat to disclose to thee. [^1/^er a pause. 

Duke Friedland 
Hath made his preparations. He relies ' 

Upon his stars. He deems us unprovided, 
And thinks to fall upon us by surprise. 
Yea, in his dream of hope, he grasps already 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 127 

The golden circle in his hand. He errs. 
We too have been in action — he but grasps 
His evil fate, most evil, most mysterious ! 

Max. O nothing rash, mj sire ! By all that's 
good 
Let me invoke thee — no precipitation ! 

Oct. With light tread stole he on his evil way, 
With light tread Vengeance stole on after him. 
Unseen she stands already, dark behind him — 
But one step more — he shudders in her grasp ! 
Thou hast seen Questenberg with me. As yet 
Thou know'st but his ostensible commission ; 
He brouglit with him a 'private one, my son ! 
And that was for me only. 

Max. May I know it ? 

Oct. Max ! 

\A pause. 

In this disclosure place I in thy hands 

The Empire's welfare and thy father's life. 
Dear to thy inmost heart is Wallenstein : 
A powerful tie of love, of veneration, 
Hath knit thee to him from thy earliest youth. 
Thou nourishest the wish — O let me still 
Anticipate thy loitering confidence ! 
The hope thou nourishest to knit thyself 
Yet closer to him 

Max. Father 

Oct. my son, 

I trust thy heart undoubtingly. But am I 
Equally sure of thy collectedness ? 



128 THE nCCOLOMIXI; 

Wilt thou be able, Avith calm countenance. 
To enter this man's presence, when that I 
Have trusted to thee his whole fate ? 

Max. According 

As thou dost trust me, father, with his crime. 

[OcTAVio takes a paper out of his escrutoire, and gives 
it to him. 

3fax. What ? how ? a full Imperial patent ! 

Oct. Eead it. 

Max. [Just glances on it.'\ Duke Friedland 
sentenced and condemned ! 

Oct. Even so. 

Max. [throws down the paper."] O this is too 
much! O unhappy error ! 

Oct. Read on. Collect thyself. 

Max. [after he lias read further, with a look of 
affright and astonishment on his father.] How ! 
what ! Thou ! thou ! 

Oct. But for the present moment, till the King 
Of Hungary may safely join the army, 
Is the command assigned to me. 

3Iax. And think'st thou, 

Dost thou believe, that thou wilt tear it from him ? 
O never hope it ! — Father ! father ! father ! 
An inauspicious office is enjoined thee. 
This paper here — this! and wilt thou enforce it? 
The mighty in the middle of his host, 
Surrounded by his thousands, him would'st thou 
Disarm — degrade ! Thou art lost, both thou and 
all of us. 



OK, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 129 

Oct. What hazard I incur thereby, I know. 
In the great hand of God I stand. The Al- 
mighty 
Will cover with his shield the Imperial house, 
And shattei-, in his wrath, the work of darkness. 
The Emperor hath true servants still ; and even 
Here in the camp, there are enough brave men, 
Who for the good cause wiU fight gallantly. 
The faithful have been warned — the dangerous 
Are closely watched. I wait but the first step. 
And then immediately 

Max. What ! on suspicion ? 

Immediately ? 

Oct. The Emperor is no tyrant. 

The deed alone he'll punish, not the wish.. 
Tlie Duke hath yet his destiny in his power. 
Let him but leave the treason uncompleted, 
He will be silently displaced from oflSce, 
And make Avay to his Emperor's royal son. 
An honourable exile to his castles 
Will be a benefaction to him rather 
Than punisliment. But the first open step — 

Max. What callest thou such a step? A 
wicked step 
Ne'er will he take ; but thou might'st easily, 
Yea, thou hast done it, misinterpret him. 

Oct. Nay, howsoever punishable were 
Duke Friedland's purposes, yet still the steps 
Which he hath taken openly, permit 
A mild construction. It is my intention 

VOL. III. 9 



130 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

To leave this paper wholly uninforced 
Till some act is committed which convicts him 
Of a high treason, without doubt or plea, 
And that shall sentence him. 

3fax. But who the judge ? 

Oct. Thyself. 

Max. For ever, then, this paper will lie idle. 

Oct. Too soon, I fear, its powers must all be 
proved. 
After the counter-promise of this evening. 
It cannot be but he must deem himself 
Secure of the majority with us ; 
And of the army's general sentiment 
He hath a pleasing proof in that petition 
Which thou deliveredst to him from the regiments. 
Add this too — I have letters that the Rhinegrave 
Hath changed his route, and travels by forced 

marches 
To the Bohemian Forest. What this purports. 
Remains unknown ; and, to confirm suspicion, 
This night a Swedish nobleman arrived here. 

Max. I have thy word. Thou'lt not proceed 
<to action 
Before thou hast convinced me — me myself. 

Oct. Is it possible ? Still, after all thou know'st, 
Canst thou believe still in his innocence ? 

Max. [with enthusiasm.] Thy judgment may 
mistake ; my heart can not. 

[Moderates his voice and manner. 
These reasons might expound thy spirit or mine ; 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLEESTEIN. 131 

But they exi:)ound not Friedland — I have faith : 
For as he knits his fortunes to the stars, 
Even so doth he resemble them in secret, 
"Wonderful, still inexplicable courses ! 
Trust me, they do him wrong. All will be solved, 
These smokes, at once, will kindle into flame — 
The edges of this black and stormy cloud 
Will brighten suddenly, and we shall view 
The Unapproachable glide out in splendour. 
Oct. I will await it. 

Scene II. — Oct avid and Max as before. To them the 
Valet of the Chamber. 

Oct. How now, then ? 

Vol. A dispatch is at the door. 

Oct. So early ? From whom comes he then ? 
Who is it ? 

Vol. That he refused to tell me. 

Oct. Lead him in : 

And hark you — let it not transpire. 

\_Exit Valet — the Cornet steps in. 
Ha ! Cornet — is it you ? and from Count Gallas ? 
Give me your letters. 

Cor. The Lieutenant- General 

Trusted it not to letters. 

Oct. And what is it ? 

Cor. He bade . me tell you — Dare I spe"^' 
openly here ? 

Oct. My son knows all. 

Cor. We have him. 



132 THE PICOOLOMINI; 

Oct. Whom? 

Cor. Sesina, 

The old negotiator. 

Oct. [eagerhj.'] And you have him ? 

Cor. In the Bohemian Forest Captain Mohr- 
brandt 
Found and secured him yester morning early : 
He was proceeding then to Regensbiirg, 
And on him were dispatches for the Swede. 

Oct. And the dispatches 

Cor. The Lieutenant-General 

Sent them that instant to Vienna, and 
The prisoner with them. 

Oct. This is, indeed, a tiding! 

That fellow is a precious casket to us. 
Inclosing weighty things — Was much found on 
him ? 

Cor. I think, six packets, with Count Tertsky's 
arms. 

Oct. None in the Duke's own hand? 

Cor. Not that I know. 

Oct. And old Sesina ? 

Cor. He was sorely frightened, 

When it was told him he must to Vienna. 
But tlie Count Altringer bade him take heart, 
Would he but make a full and free confession. 

Oct. Is Altringer then with your lord? I 
heard 
That he lay sick at Linz. 

Cor. These three days past 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. I'd'd 

He's with mj master, the Lieutenant-General, 
At Frauenbiirg. Ah'eady have they sixty 
Small companies together, chosen men ; 
Respectfully they greet you with assurances, 
That they are only waiting your commands. 

Oct. In a few days may great events take place. 
And when must you return ? 

Cor. I wait your orders. 

Oct. Remain till evening, 
j Cornet signijies his assent and ohehance, and is going 

No one saw you — ha ? 
Cor. No living creature. Through the cloister 
wicket 
The Capuchins, as usual, let me in. 

Oct. Go, rest your limbs, and keep yourself 
concealed. 
I hold it probable, that yet ere evening 
I shall dispatch you. The development 
Of this affair approaches : ere the day, * 

That even now is dawning in the heaven, 
Ere this eventful day hath set, the lot 
That must decide our fortunes will be drawn. 

[Exit Cornet. 

Scene III. — Octavio, and Max Piccolomini. 

Oct. Well — and what now, son ? All will soon 
be clear ; 
For all, I'm certain, went through that Sesina. 



134: THE PICCOLOMIXI ; 

3fax. \who through the whole of the foregoing 
scene has been in a visible struggle of feelings, at 
length starts as one resolved.^ I will procure me 
light a shorter way. Farewell. 

Oct. Where now ? — Remain here. 

Max. To the Duke. 

Oct. [alarmed.'] What 

Max. \returning.~\ If thou hast believed that I 
shall act 

A part in this thy play 

Thou hast miscalculated on me grievously. 

My way must be straight on. True with the 

tongue, 
False with the heart — I may not, cannot be : 
Nor can I suffer that a man should trust me — 
As his friend trust me — and then lull my con- 
science 
With such low pleas as these : — " I ask'd him 

not — 
He did it all at his own hazard — and 
My mouth has never lied to him." — No, no ! 
What a friend takes me for, that I must be : 
— I'll to the Duke ; ere yet this day is ended 
Will I demand of him that he do save 
His good name from the world, and with one 

stride 
Break through and rend this fine-spun web of 

yours. 
He can, he will ; — / still am his believer. 
Yet I'll not pledge myself, but that those letters 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 135 

May furnish you, perchance, with proofs against 

him. 
How far may not this Tertsky have proceeded — 
What may not he himself too have permitted 
Himself to do, to snare the enemy, 
The laws of war excusing ? Nothing, save 
His own mouth shall convict him — nothing less ! 
And face to face will I go question him. 

Oct. Thou wilt? 

3Iax. I will, as sure as this heart beats. 

Oct. I have, indeed, miscalculated on thee. 
I calculated on a prudent son. 
Who would have bless'd the hand beneficent 
That plucked him back from the abyss — and lo ! 
A fascinated being I discover, 
Whom his two eyes befool, whom passion wilders, 
Whom not the broadest light of noon can heal. 
Go, question him ! — Be mad enough, I pray thee. 
The purpose of thy father, of thy Emperor, 
Go, give it up free booty : — Force me, drive me 
To an open breach before the time. And now, 
Now that a miracle of heaven had guarded 
My secret purpose even to this hour, 
And laid to sleep suspicion's piercing eyes, 
Let me have lived to see that mine own son, 
With frantic enterprise, annihilates 
My toilsome labours and state policy. 

Max. Ay — this state policy ! how I curse it ! 
You will some time, with your state policy. 
Compel him to the measure : it may happen, 



136 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

Because ye are determined that he is guilty, 
Guilty ye'll make him. All retreat cut off, 
You close up every outlet, hem him in 
Narrower and narrower, till at length ye force 

him — ■ 
Yes, ye — jq force him, in his desperation, 
To set fire to his prison. Father ! Father ! 
That never can end well — it cannot — will not ! 
And let it be decided as it may, 
I see with boding heart the near approach 
Of an ill-starred, unblest catastroplie. 
For this great monarch-spirit, if he fall, 
Will drag a world into the ruin with him. 
And as a ship (that midway on the ocean 
Takes fire) at once, and with a thunder-burst 
Explodes, and with itself shoots out its crew 
In smoke and ruin betwixt sea and heaven ; 
So will he, falling, draw down in his fall 
All us, who're fixed and mortised to his fortune. 
Deem of it what thou wilt ; but pardon me, 
That I must bear me on in my own way. 
All must remain pure betwixt him and me ; 
And, ere the day-light dawns, it must be known ' 
Which 1 must lose — my father, or my friend. 

[During his exit the curtain drops. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 137 



ACT ly. 

Scene I. — A Boom fitted up for astrological labours, and 
provided ivilh celestial charts, ivith globes, telescopes, qua- 
drants, and other mathematical instruments. — Seven colos- 
sal figures, representing the planets, each with a trans- 
parent star of a different colour on its head, stand in a 
semicircle in the background, so that Mars and Saturn 
are nearest the eye. — The remainder of the Scene, and its 
disposition, is givm in the Fourth Scene of the Second 
Act. — There must be a curtain over the figures, ivhich may 
he dropped, and conceal them on occasions. 

[In the Fifth Scene of this Act it must be dropped ; hut in 
the Seventh Scene, it must be again draicn up wholly or 
in part.] 

Wallenstein at a black table, on which a Spfculum Astro- 
logicum is described with chalk. Seni is taking observa- 
tions through a window. 

Wal. All well — and now let it be ended, Seni. — 
Come, 
The dawn commences, and Mars rules the hour. 
We must give o'er the operation. Come, 
We know enough. 

Seni. Your Highness must permit me 

Just to contemplate Venus. She's now rising : 
Like as a sun, so shines she in the east. 

Wal. She is at present in her perigee, 
And shoots down now her strongest influences. 

[Contemplating the figure on the table. 



138 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

Auspicious aspect ! fateful in conjunction, 
At length the mighty three corradiate ; 
And the two stars of blessing, Jupiter 
And Venus, take between them the malignant 
Slilj-malicious Mars, and thus compel 
Into my service that old mischief-founder ; 
For long he viewed me hostilelj, and ever 
With beam oblique, or perpendicular, 
Now in the Quartiie, now in the Secundan, 
Shot his red lightnings at my stars, disturbing 
Their blessed influences and sweet aspects. 
Now they have conquered the old enemy. 
And bring him in the heavens a prisoner to me. 

8eni. \_wlio has come down from the xoindowT^ 
And in a corner house, your Highness — think of 

that ! 
That makes each influence of double strength. 

Wal. And sun and moon, too, in the Sextile 
aspect. 
The soft light with the veh'ment — so I love it. 
Sol is the heart, Luna the head of heaven. 
Bold be the plan, fiery the execution. 

Seni. And both the mighty Lnmina by no 
Maleiicus affronted. Lo ! Saturnus, 
Innocuous, powerless, in cadente domo. 

Wal. The empire of Saturnus is gone by : 
Lord of the secret birth of tilings is he ; 
Within the lap of earth, and in the depths 
Of the imagination dominates ; 
And his are all things that eschew the light. 



OK, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 139 

The time is o'er of brooding and contrivance ; 

For Jupiter, the lustrous, lordeth now, 

And the dark work, complete of preparation, 

He draws by force into the realm of light. 

Now must we hasten on to action, ere 

The scheme, and most auspicious positure 

Parts o'er m j head, and takes once more its flight ; 

For the heavens journey still, and sojourn not. 

[There are knocks at the door. 
There's some one knocking there. See who it is. 
Tertshy. \_from without.'] Open, and let me in. 
Wal. Ay— 'tis Tertsky. 

What is there of such urgence ? We are busy. 
Ter. [fro7n without.'] Lay all aside at present, 
I entreat you. 
It suffers no delaying. 

Wal Open, Seni ! 

[While Seni opens the door for Tertsky, Wallek- 
STEIN draws the curtain over tlie figures. 
Ter. [enters.] Hast thou already heard it ? He 
is taken. 
Gallas has given him up to the Emperor. 

[Seni draws off the black table and exit. 



Scene IL— Wallenstein, Count Tertsky. 
Wal. [to Tertsky.] Who has been taken ?— Who 

is given up ? 
Ter. The man who knows our secrets, who 

knows every 



140 THE piccoLOiimi; 

Negotiation with the Swede and Saxon, 
Through whose hands all and every thing has 

passed — 
Wal. \_drawi7ig hach.~\ Nay, not Sesina ? — Say, 

No ! I entreat thee. 
Ter. All on his road for Regensburg to the 

Swede 
He was plunged down upon by Gallas' agent, 
Who had been long in ambush, lurking for him. 
There must have been found on him my whole 

packet 
To Thurn, to Kinsky, to Oxenstiern, to Arnheim : 
All this is in their hands ; they have now an 

insight 
Into the whole — our measures, and our motives. 



SCEXE III. — To them enters Illo. 
lllo. [^0 Tertsky.] Has he heard it ? 
Ter. He has heard it. 

Elo \to Wallenstein.] Thinkest thou still 
To make thy peace with the Emp'ror, to regain 
His confidence ? — E'en were it now thy wish 
To abandon all thy plans, yet still they know 
What thou hast wished ; then forwards thou must 

press ! 
Retreat is now no longer in thy power. 

Ter. They have documents against us, and in 
hands, 
Which show beyond all j)ower of contradiction — 



OR, THE FIRST TART OF WALLENSTEIN. 141 

Wal. Of my handwriting — no iota. Tliee 
I punish for thy lies. 

Jllo, And thou bellevest, 

That what this man, that what thy sister's husband, 
Did in thy name, will not stand on thy reck'ning ? 
His word must pass for thy word w^ith the Swede^ 
And not with those that hate thee at Vienna. 

Ter. In writing thou gav'st nothing — But be- 
think thee, 
How far thou venturedst by word of mouth 
With this Sesina? And will he be silent? 
If he can save himself by yielding up 
Thy secret purposes, will he retain them ? 

Mo. Thyself dost not conceive it possible ; 
And since they now have evidence authentic 
How far thou hast already gone, speak ! — tell us, 
What art thou waitinoj for ? thou canst no longer 
Keep thy command ; and beyond hope of rescue 
Thou'rt lost, if thou resign'st it. 

Wal. In the army 

Lies my security. The army will not 
Abandon me. Whatever they may know, 
The power is mine, and they must gulp it down-^ 
And substitute I caution for my fealty. 
They must be satisfied, at least appear so. 

Illo. The army, Duke, is thine now^ — for this 
moment— 
'Tis thine : but think with terror on the slow, 
The quiet power of time. From open violence 
The attachment of thy soldiery secures thee 



142 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

To-day — to-morrow ; but grant'st thou them a 

respite, 
Unheard, unseen, they'll undermine that love 
On which thou now dost feel so firm a footing ; 
With wily theft will draw away from thee 
One after th' other 

Wal. 'Tis a cursed accident ! 

lUo. 0, I will call it a most blessed one, 
If it work on thee as it ought to do. 
Hurry thee on to action — to decision. 
The Swedish General 

Wal. He's arrived ! KnoAv'st thou 
What his commission is 

lilo. To thee alone 

Will he entrust the purpose of his coming. 

Wal. A cursed, cursed accident ! Yes, yes, 
Sesina knows too much, and won't be silent. 

Ter. He's a Bohemian fugitive and rebel. 
His neck is forfeit. Can he save himself 
At thy cost, think you he will scruple it ? 
And if they put him to the torture, will he. 
Will he, that dastardling, have strength 
enough 

Wal. \lo St 171 thought.'] Their confidence is lost — 
irreparably ! 
And I may act what way I will, I shall 
Be and remain for ever in their thought 
A traitor to my country. How sincerely 
Soever I return back to my duty. 
It will no longer help me 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 143 

lllo. Ruin thee, 

That it will do ! Not thy fidelity, 
Thy weakness will be deemed the sole occasion — 

Wal. [pacing up and down in extreme agita- 
tion.'] AVhat ! I must realize it now in earnest, 
Because I toyed too freely with the thought ? 
Accursed he who dallies with a devil ! 
And must I — I must realize it now — 
Now, while I have the power, it must take place ? 

Hlo. Now — now — ere they can ward and par- 
ry it! 

Wal. [looking at the paper of signatures.'] I 
have the Generals' word — a written promise ! 
Max Piccolomini stands not here — how's that ? 

Ter. It was he fancied 

lllo. Mere self-willedness. 

There needed no such thing 'twixt him and you. 

Wal. He is quite right — there needeth no such 
thing: 
The regiments, too, deny to march for Flanders — 
Have sent me in a paper of remonstrance, 
And openly resist the Imperial orders. 
The first step to revolt's already taken. 

lllo. Believe me, thou wilt find it far more easy 
To lead them over to the enemy 
Than to the Spaniard. 

Wal. I will hear, however, 

What the Swede has to say to me. 

lllo. [eagerly to Tertskt.] Go, call him ! 
He stands without the door in waiting. 



144 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

Wal Stay ! 

Stay yet a little. It hath taken me 
All by surprise, — it came too quick upon me ; 
'Tis wholly novel, that an accident, 
With its dark lordship, and blind agency, 
Should force me on with it. 

Jllo, First hear him only, 

And after weigh it. [Exeunt Tertskt and Illo. 



Scene IV. — "Wallenstein. 

Wal. \_in soliloquy.'] Is it possible ? 
Is't so ? I can no longer \\\i3kil v)ould ! 
No longer draw back at my liking ! I 
Must do the deed, because I thought of it. 
And fed this heart here with a dream ! Because 
I did not scowl temptation from my presence, 
Dallied with thoughts of possible fulfilment, 
Commenced no movement, left all time uncertain, 
And only kept the road, the access open ! 
By the great God of Heaven ! it was not 
My serious meaning, it was ne'er resolve. 
I but amused myself with thinking of it. 
The free-will tempted me, the power to do 
Or not to do it. — -Was it criminal 
To make the fancy minister to hope, 
To fill the air with pretty toys of air, 
And clutch fantastic sceptres moving t'ward me ? 
Was not the will kept free ? Beheld I not 
The road of duty close beside me — but 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 145 

One little step, and once more I was in it ! 
Where am I ? Whither have I been transported ? 
No road, no track behind me, but a wall, 
Impenetrable, insurmountable. 
Rises obedient to the spells I muttered 
And meant not — my own doings tower behind me. 
[Pauses, and remains in deep thought. 
A punishable man I seem, the guilt. 
Try what I will, I cannot roll off from me ; 
The equivocal demeanour of my life 
Bears witness on my prosecutor's party ; 
And even my purest acts from purest motives 
Suspicion poisons with malicious gloss.. 
Were I that thing, for which I pass, that traitor, 
A goodly outside I had sure reserved, 
Had drawn the cov'rings thick and double round 

me. 
Been calm and chary of my utterance. 
But being conscious of the innocence 
Of my intent, my uncorrupted will, 
I gave way to my humours, to my passion : 
Bold were my words, because my deeds w^ere not. 
Now every planless measure,, chance event. 
The threat of rage, the vaunt of joy and triumph, 
And all the May -games of a heart o'erflowing. 
Will they connect, and weave them all together 
Into one web of treason ; all will be plan. 
My eye ne'er absent from the far-off mark, 
Step tracing step, each step a politic progress ; 
And out of all they'll fabricate a charge 

VOL. III. 10 



146 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

So specious, that I must myself stand dumb. 
I am caught in my own net, and only force, 
Nought but a sudden rent can liberate me. 

[Pauses again. 
How else! since that the heart's unbiased instinct 
Impelled me to the daring deed, which now 
Necessity, self-preservation, orders. 
Stern is the on-look of Necessity, 
Not without shudder many a human hand 
Grasps the mysterious urn of destiny. 
My deed was mine, remaining in my bosom, 
On-ce suffered to escape from its safe corner 
Within the heart, its nursery and birthplace, 
Sent forth into the foreign, it belongs 
For ever to those sly malicious powers 
Whom never art of man conciliated. 

[Paces in agitation through the Chamber, theJi pauses, 
and, after the pause, breaks out again into audiblt 
soliloquy. 

What is thy enterprise ? thy aim ? thy object ? 

Hast honestly confessed it to thyself.'' 

Power seated on a quiet throne thou'dst shake, 

Power of an ancient consecrated throne. 

Strong in possession, founded in old custom ; 

Power by a thousand tough and stringy roots 

Fixed to the people's pious nursery-faith. 

This, this will be no strife of strength with strength. 

That feared I not. I brave each combatant, 

Whom I can look on, fixing eye to eye, 

Who, full liimself of courage, kindles courage 



In me too. 'Tis a foe invisible, 

The which I fear — a fearful enemj, 

Which in the human heart opposes me, 

Bj its coward fear alone made fearful to me. 

Not that, which full of life, instinct with power, 

Makes known its present being, that is not 

The true, the perilously formidable. 

no ! it is the common, the quite common, 

The thing of an eternal yesterday, 

What ever was, and evermore returns. 

Sterling to-morrow, for to-day 'twas sterling ! 

For of the wholly common is man made, 

And custom is his nurse ! Woe then to them. 

Who lay irreverent hands upon his old 

House furniture, the dear inheritance 

From his forefathers. For time consecrates ; 

And what is gray with age becomes rehgion. 

Be in possession, and thou hast the right, 

And sacred will the many guard it for thee ! 

[To the Page who here enters. 
The Swedish officer? — Well, let him enter. 

[The Page exit, Wallenstein Jixes his eye in deep 
thought on the door. 

Yet is it pure — as yet ! — the crime has come "~" 
Not o'er this threshold yet — so slender is 
The boundary that divideth life's two paths. 

Scene V. — Wallenstein and Wrangel. 
Wal. \after having fixed a searching look on 
him.'\ Your name is Wrangel ? 



148 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

Wran, Gustave Wrangel, General 

Of the Sudermanian Blues. 

Wal. It was a "Wrangel 

Who injured me materially at Stralsund, 
And by his brave resistance was the cause 
Of th' opposition which that seaport made. 

Wran. It was the doing of the element 
With which you fought, my lord, and not my 

merit. 
The Baltic Neptune did assert his freedom, 
The sea and land, it seemed, were not to serve 
One and the same. 

Wal. \_makes a motion for him to take a seat^ 
and seats himself.~\ And where are your cre- 
dentials ? 
Come you provided with full powers, Sir General ? 

Wran. There are so many scruples yet to 
solve 

Wal. [having read the credentials. '\ An able 
letter ! — Ay — he is a prudent, 
Intelligent master, whom you serve, Sir General ! 
The Chancellor writes me, that he but fulfils 
His late departed Sovereign's own idea 
In helping me to the Bohemian crown. 

Wran. He says the truth. Our great king, 
now in heaven, 
Did ever deem most highly of your Grace's 
Preeminent sense and military genius ; 
And always the commanding Intellect, 
He said, should have command, and be the king. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 119 

Wal. Yes, he might say it safely. — General 

Wranf^el, [7a^»?^ his hand affectionately. 

Come, fair and open — Trust me, I was always 
A Swede at heart. Ey ! that did you experience 
Both in Silesia and at Nuremburg; 
I had you often in my power, and let you 
Always slip out by some back door or other. 
*Tis this for which the Court can ne'er forgive me, 
Which drives me to this present step : and since 
Our interests so run in one direction, 
E'en let us have a thorough confidence 
Each in the other. 

Wran. Confidence will come, 

Has each but only first security. 

Wal. The Chancellor still, I see, does not quite 
trust me ; 
And, I confess — the gain does not lie wholly 
To my advantage, — -Without doubt he thinks 
If I can play false with the Emperor, 
Who is my sovereign, I can do the like 
With th' enemy, and that the one too were 
Sooner to be forgiven me than the other. 
Is not this your opinion too, Sir General ? 

Wran. I have here an office merely, no opinion. 

Wal. The Emperor hath urged me to the 
uttermost. 
I can no longer honourably serve him. 
For my security, in self-defence, 
I take this hard step, which my conscience blames. 

Wran. That I believe. So far would no one go 



150 THE riCCOLOx^IlNI ; 

Who was not forced to it. [A/^er a pause. 
What may have impelled 
Your princely Highness in this wise to act 
Toward your Sovereign Lord and Emperor, 
Beseems not us to expound or criticize. 
The Swede is fighting for his good old cause, 
With his good sword and conscience. This con- 
currence, 
This opportunity, is in our favour, 
And all advantages in war are lawful. 
We take what offers without questioning ; 
And if all have its due and just proportions 

Wal. Of what then are ye doubting ? Of my 
will ? 
Or of my power? I pledge me to the Chancellor, 
Would he trust me with sixteen thousand men. 
That I would instantly go over to them 
With eighteen thousand of the Emperor's troops. 

Wran. Your Grace is known to be a mighty 
war-chief, 
To be a second Attila and Pyrrhus. 
'Tis talked of still with fresh astonishment, 
How some years past, beyond all human faith 
You called an army forth, like a creation ; 
But yet 

Wal. But yet? 

Wran. But still the Chancellor thinks, 

It might yet be an easier thing from nothing 
To call forth sixty thousand men of battle. 
Than to persuade one sixtieth part of them — 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 151 

Wal. What now ? Out with it, friend ? 

Wran. To break their oaths. 

Wal. And he thinks so? — He judges like a 
Swede, 
And like a Protestant. You Lutherans 
Fight for your Bible. You are int'rested 
About the cause ; and with your hearts you follow 
Your banners. — Among yon, whoe'er deserts 
To the enemy, hath broken covenant 
With two Lords at one time. We've no such fancies. 

Wran. Great God in Heaven ! Have then the 
people here 
No house and home, no fireside, no altar ? 

Wal. I will explain that to you, how it stands — ■ 
The Austrian has a country, ay, and loves it, 
And has good cause to love it — but this army, 
That calls itself th' Imperial, this that houses 
Here in Bohemia, this has none — no country ; 
This is an outcast of all foreign lands, 
Unclaimed by town or tribe, to whom belongs 
Nothing, except the universal sun, 

Wran. But then the nobles and the officers ? 
Such a desertion, such a felony, 
It is without example, my Lord Duke, 
In the world's history. 

Wal. They are all mine — 

Mine unconditionally, mine on all terms. 
Not me, your own eyes you must trust. 

[Z/e gives him the paper containing the ivritten oath, 
Wrangel reads it through, and having read it, 
lai/s it on the table, remaining silent. 



152 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

So then ? 
Now comprehend you ? 

Wran. Comprehend who can ! 

My Lord Duke ; I will let the mask drop — yes ! 
I've full powers for a final settlement. 
The Rhinegrave stands but four days' marcl' 

from here 
With fifteen thousand men, and only waits 
For orders to proceed and join your army. 
Those orders / give out, immediately 
We^'e compromised. 

Wal. What asks the Chancellor ? 

Wran. [considerately.'] Twelve regiments, 
every man a Swede — my head 
The warranty — and all might prove at last 
Only false play 

Wal. [starting.] Sir Swede ! 

Wran. [calmly proceeding.] Am therefore 
forced 
T' insist thereon, that he do formally, 
Irrevocably break with th' Emperor, 
Else not a Swede is trusted to Duke Friedland. 

Wal. Come, brief and open ! what is the 
demand ? 

Wran. That he forthwith disarm the Spanish 
reg'ments 
Attached to th' Emperor, that he seize Prague, 
And to the Swedes give up that city, with 
The strong pass Egra. 

Wal. That is much indeed I 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 153 

Prague ! — Egra's granted — But — but Prague ! — ■ 

'Twon't do. 
I give you every security 

"Which you may ask of me in common reason — 
But Prague — Bohemia — these, Sir General, 
I can myself protect. 

Wran. We doubt it not. 

But 'tis not the protection that is now 
Our sole concern. We want security. 
That we shall not expend our men and money 
All to no purpose. 

Wal. 'Tis but reasonable. 

Wran. And till w^e are indemnified, so long 
Stays Prague in pledge. 

Wal, Then trust you us so little ? 

Wran. [mm^.] The Swede, if he would treat 
well with the German, 
Must keep a sharp look out. We have been 

called 
Over the Baltic, we have saved the empire 
From ruin — with our best blood have we sealed 
The liberty of fiiith, and gospel truth. 
But now already is the benefaction 

No longer felt, the load alone is felt. 

Ye look askance with evil eye upon us. 

As foreigners, intruders in the empire, 

Ai .d would fain send us, with some paltry sum 

Of money, home again to our old forests. 

No no ! my Lord Duke ! no ! — it never was 

For Judas' pay, for chinking gold and silver, 



154 THE nCCOLOMINl; 

That we did leave our king by the great Stone.* 
No, not for gold and silver have there bled 
So many of our Swedish nobles — neither 
Will we, with empty laurels for our payment, 
Hoist sail for our own country. Citizens 
Will we remain upon the soil, the which 
Our monarch conquered for himself, and died. 

Wal. Help to keep down the common enemy, 
And the fair border land must needs be yours. 

Wran. But when the common enemy lies 
vanquished, 
Who knits together our new friendship then ? 
We know, Duke Friedland ! though perhaps the 

Swede 
Ought not t'have known it, that you carry on 
Secret negotiations with the Saxons. 
Who is our warranty, that ive are not 
The sacrifices in those articles 
Which 'tis thought needful to conceal from us ? 

Wal. [rises-l Think you of something better, 
Gustave Wrangel! 
Of Prague no more. 

Wran. Here my commission ends. 

Wal. Surrender up to you my capital! 
Far liever would I face about, and step 
Back to my Emperor. 

Wran. If time yet permits 

* A great stone near Liitzen, since called the Swede's 
Stone, the body of their great king having been found at the 
toot of it, after the battle ia which he lost his life. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 155 

Wal. That lies with me, even now, at any hour. 

Wran. Some days ago, perhaps. To day, no 
longer. 
No longer since Sesina is a prisoner. 

[Wallenstein is struck, and silenced. 
My Lord Duke, hear me — We believe that you 
At present do mean honourably by us. 
Since yesterday we're sure of that — and now 
This paper warrants for the troops, there's 

nothing 
Stands in the way of our full confidence. 
Prague shall not part us. Hear ! The Chan- 
cellor 
Contents himself with Altstadt, to your Grace 
He gives up Ratschin and the narrow side. 
But Egra above all must open to us. 
Ere we can think of any junction. 

Wal. You, 

You, therefore must I trust, and you not me ? 
I will consider of your proposition. 

Wran. I must entreat, that your consideration 
Occupy not too long a time. Already 
Has this negotiation, my Lord Duke, 
Crept on into the second year. If nothing 
Is settled this time, will the Chancellor 
Consider it as broken off for ever. 

Wal. Ye press me hard. A measure such as 
tliis, 
Ought to be thought of. 

Wran. Ay ! but think of this too, 



156 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

That sudden action only can procure it 
Success — think first of this, your Highness. 

[Exit Weangbl, 

Scene VI. — Wallenstein,Tertsky, and Illo {re-enter.) 

lUo. Is't all right ? 

Ter. Are you compromised ? 

Illo. This Swede 

Went smiling from you. Yes ! you're compro- 
mised. 
Wal. As yet is nothing settled: and (well 
weighed) 
I feel myself inclined to leave it so. 
Ter, How ? What is that ? 
Wal. Come on me what will come, 

The doing evil to avoid an evil 
Cannot be good ! 

Ter. Nay, but bethink you, Duke ? 

Wal. To live upon the mercy of these Swedes ! 

Of these proud-hearted Swedes, I could not bear it. 

Illo. Goest thou as fugitive, as mendicant ? 
Bringest thou not more to them than thou receiv- 
est? 

Scene VII. — To these Enter the Countess Tertskt. 

Wal. Who sent for you ? There is no business 
here 
For women. 

Co2m. I am come to bid you joy. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 157 

Wal. Use thy authority, Tertsky, bid her go. 

Couti. Come I perhaps too early ? I hope 
not. 

Wal. Set not this tongue upon me, I entreat 
you. 
You know it is the weapon that destroys me. 
I am routed, if a woman but attack me. 
I cannot traffic in the trade of words 
"With that unreasoning sex. 

Coun. I had already 

Given the Bohemians a king. 

Wal. \_sarcasticaUy.'] They have one, 
In consequence, no doubt. 

Coun. [to the others.'\ Ha ! what new scruple ? 

Ter. The Duke will not. 

Coun, He will not what he must I 

lllo. It lies with you now. Try. For I am 
silenced 
When folks begin to talk to me of conscience 
And of fidelity. 

Coun. How? then, when all 

Lay in the far off distance, when the road 
Stretched out before thine eyes interminably, 
Then hadst thou courage and resolve ; and now, 
Now that the dream is being realized, 
The purpose ripe, the issue ascertained, 
Dost thou begin to play the dastard now ? 
Planned merely, 'tis a common felony ; 
Accomplished, an immortal undertaking : 
And with success comes pardon hand in hand ; 



158 THE PICCOLOMINT. 

For all event is God's arbitrament. 

Servant [entersJ] The Colonel Piccolomini. 

Coun. [Juistily.'] — Must wait. 

Wal. I cannot see him now. Another time. 

Ser. But for two minutes he entreats an 
audience. 
Of the most urgent nature Is his business. 

Wal. Who knows what he may bring us ? I 
will hear him. 

Voun. (laughs.) Urgent for him, no doubt ; 
but thou mayest wait. 

Wal What is it? 

Coun. Thou shalt be informed hereafter. 

First let the Swede and thee be compromised. 

[Exit Servant. 

Wal. If there were yet a choice ! if yet some 
milder 
Way of escape were possible — I still 
Will choose it, and avoid the last extreme. 

Coun. Desir'st thou nothing further? Such a 
way 
Lies still before thee. Send this Wrangel off. 
Forget thou thy old hopes, cast far away 
All thy past life ; determine to commence . 
A new one. Virtue hath her heroes too, 
As well as fame and fortune. To Vienna — 
Hence — to the Emperor — kneel before the throne ; 
Take a full coffer with thee — say aloud, 
Thou didst but wish to prove thy fealty ; 
Thy whole intention but to dupe the Swede. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OP WALLENSTEIN. 159 

Illo. For that too 'tis too late. They know too 
much. 
He would but bear his own head to the block 

Coun. I fear not that. They have not evidence 
To attaint him legally, and they avoid 
The avowal of an arbitrary power. 
They'll let the Duke resign without disturbance. 
I see how all will end. The King of Hungary 
Makes his appearance, and 'twill of itself 
Be understood, that then the Duke retires. 
There will not want a formal dcfclaration. 
The young king will administer the oath 
To the whole army ; and so all returns 
To the old position. On some morrow morning 
The Duke departs ; and now 'tis stir and bustle 
Within his castles. He will hunt, and build, 
Superintend his horses' pedigrees ; 
Creates himself a court, gives golden keys, 
And introduceth strictest ceremony 
In fine proportions, and nice etiquette ; 
Keeps open table with high cheer ; in brief, 
Commenceth mighty king — in miniature. 
And while he prudently demeans himself, 
And gives himself no actual importance. 
He will be let appear whate'er he likes ; 
And who dares doubt, that Friedland will appear 
A mighty prince to his last dying hour ? 
Well now, what then ? Duke Friedland is as 

others 
A fire-new noble, whom the war hath raised 



160 THE nCCOLOMINI ; 

To price and currency, a Jonali's gourd, 
An over-niglit creation of court-favour, 
Which with an undistinguishable ease 
Makes baron or makes prince. 

Wal. [_m extreme agitation.'] Take her away. 
Let in the young Count Piccolomini. 

Coun. Art thou in earnest ? 1 entreat thee ! 
Canst thou 
Consent to bear thyself to thy own grave, 
So ignorainiously to be dried up ? 
Thy life, that arrogated such a height 
To end in such a nothing ! To be nothing, 
When one was always nothing, is an evil 
That asks no stretch of patience, a liglit evil, 
But to become a nothing, having been 

Wal. \_starts up in violent agitation.'] Show me 
a, way out of this stifling crowd. 
Ye powers of aidance ! Show me such a way 
As 1 am capable of going. — I 
Am no tongue-hero, no fine virtue-prattler ; 
I cannot warm by thinking ; cannot say 
To the good luck that turns her back upon me. 
Magnanimously : " Go ; I need thee not." 
Cease I to work, I am annihilated. 
Dangers nor sacrifices will I shun, 
If so I may avoid the last extreme ; 
But ere I sink down into nothingness, 
Leave off so little, who began so great. 
Ere that the world confuses me with those 
Poor wretches, whom a day creates and crumbles, 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 161 

This age and after-ages speak my name 
With hate and dread ; and Friedland be redemp- 
tion 
For each accursed deed ! 

Coun. What is there here, then, 

So against nature ? Help me to perceive it ! 
O let not superstition's nightly goblins 
Subdue thy clear bright spirit ! Art thou bid 
To murder ? — with abhorred accursed poignard. 
To violate the breasts that nourished thee ? 
That were against our nature, that might aptly 
Make thy flesh shudder, and thy whole heart 

sicken ; — 
Yet not a few, and for a meaner object. 
Have ventured even this, ay, and performed it. 
What is there in thy case so black and monstrous ? 
Thou art accused of treason — whether with 
Or without justice is not now the question — 
Thou art lost if thou dost not avail thee quickly 
Of the power which thou possessest — Friedland ! 

Duhe! 
Tell me, where lives that thing so meek and tame, 
That doth not all his living faculties 
Put forth in preservation of his life ? 
What deed so daring, which necessity 
And desperation will not sanctify ? 

Wal. Once was this Ferdinand so gracious 
to me : 
He loved me ; he esteemed me ; I was placed 
The nearest to his heart. Full many a time 

VOL. III. 11 



162 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

We like familiar friends, both at one table, 

Have banqueted together. He and I — 

And the young kings themselves held me the 

basin 
Wherewith to wash me — and is't come to this ? 
Gomi. So faithfully preserv'st thou each small 

favour, 
And hast no memory for contumelies ? 
Must I remind thee, how at Regensburg 
This man repaid thy faithful services ? 
All ranks and all conditions in the empire 
Thou hadst wronged, to make him great, — hadst 

loaded on thee, 
On thee, the hate, the curse of the whole world. 
No friend existed for thee in all Germany ; 
And why ? because thou hadst existed only 
For the Emperor. To the Emperor alone 
Clung Friedland in that storm which gathered 

round him 
At Regensburg in the Diet — and he dropped 

thee ; 
He let thee fall ! He let thee fall a victim 
To the Bavarian, to that insolent ! 
Deposed, stript bare of all thy dignity 
And power, amid the taunting of thy foes, 
Thou wert let drop into obscurity. — 
Say not, the restoration of thy honour 
Hath made atonement for that first injustice. 
No honest good-will was it that replaced thee ; 
The law of hard necessity replaced thee, . 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIX. 1G3 

Which they had fain opposed, but that they could 
not. 
Wal Not to their good wishes, that is certain, 
Nor yet to his affection I'm indebted 
For this high office ; and if I abuse it, 
I shall therein abuse no confidence. 

Coun. Affection ! confidence ! — They needed 
thee. 
Necessity, impetuous remonstrant ! 
Who not with empty names, or shows of proxy. 
Is served, who'll have the thing and not the 

symbol. 
Ever seeks out the greatest and the best, 
And at the rudder places him, e'en though 
She had been forced to take him from the rab- 
ble- 
She, this necessity, it was that placed thee 
In this high office, it was she that gave thee 
Thy letters patent of inauguration. 
For, to the uttermost moment that they can. 
This race still help themselves at cheapest rate 
With slavish souls, with puppets ! At the approach 
Of extreme peril, when a hollow image 
Is found a hollow image and no more. 
Then falls the power into the mighty hands 
Of nature, of the spirit giant-born, 
WIio listens only to himself, knows nothing 
Of stipulations, duties, reverences, 
And, like the emancipated force of fire, 
Unmastered scorches, ere it reaches them, 



164 THE riCCOLOMINI ; 

Their fine-spun webs, their artificial policy. 

Wal 'Tis true ! they saw me always as I am — 
Always ! I did not cheat them in the bargain. 
I never held it worth my pains to hide 
The bold all-grasping habit of my soul. 

Coun. Nay rather — thou hast ever shown 
thyself 
A formidable man, without restraint ; 
Hast exercised the full prerogatives 
Of thy impetuous nature, which had been 
Once granted to thee. Therefore, Duke, not 

thou, 
Who hast still remained consistent with thyself, 
But they are in the wrong who fearing thee, 
Entrusted such a power in hands they feared. 
For, by the laws of spirit, in the right 
Is every individual character 
That acts in strict consistence with itself. 
Self-contradiction is the only wrong. 
Wert thou another being, then, when thou 
Eight years ago pursuedst thy march with fire 
And sword, and desolation, through the Circles 
Of Germany, the universal scourge. 
Didst mock all ordinances of the empire. 
The fearful rights of strength alone exertedst, 
Trampledst to earth each rank, each magistracy. 
All to extend thy Sultan's domination ? 
Then was the time to break thee in, to curb 
Thy haughty will, to teach thee ordinance. 
But no ! the Emperor felt no touch of conscience ; 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 165 

What served liim pleased him, and without a 

murmur 
He stamped his broad seal on these lawless deeds. 
What at that time was right, because thou didst it 
For hijn, to-day is all at once become 
Opprobrious, foul, because it is directed 
Against him. — O most flimsy superstition ! 

Wal. [rising.'] I never saw it in this light 

before. 
'Tis even so. The Emperor perpetrated 
Deeds through my arm, deeds most unorderly. 
And even this prince's mantle, which I wear, 
I ow^e to what were services to him. 
But most high misdemeanours 'gainst the empire. 
Coun. Then betwixt thee and him (confess it, 

Friedland !) 
The point can be no more of right and duty, 
Only of power and opportunity. 
That opportunity, lo ! it comes yonder, 
Approaching with swift steeds ; then with a swing 
Throw thyself up into the chariot seat. 
Seize Avith firm hand the reins, ere thy opponent 
Anticipate thee, and himself make conquest 
Of the now empty seat. The moment comes — 
It is already here, when thou must w^rite 
The absolute total of thy life's vast sum. 
The constellations stand victorious o'er thee. 
The planets shoot good fortune in fair junctions, 
And tell thee, " Now's the time ! " The starry 

courses 



166 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

Hast thou thy life-long measured to no purpose ? 
The quadrant and the circle, were they playthings ? 
[Pointing to the different objects in the room. 
The zodiacs, the rolling orbs, of heaven, 
Hast pictured on these walls, and all around thee 
In dumb, foreboding symbols hast thou placed 
These seven presiding Lords of Destiny — 
For toys ? Is all this preparation nothing ? 
Is there no marrow in this hollow art, 
That even to thyself it doth avail 
Nothing, and has no influence over thee 
In the great moment of decision ? 

Wal. [during this last speech walks up and 
down with inward struggles, lahoiiring with pas- 
sions ; stops suddenly, stands still, then interrupt- 
ing the Countess.'] Send Wrangel to me — I will 

instantly 
Dispatch three couriers 

Jllo. [hurrying out.] God in heaven be praised ! 

Wal. It is his evil genius and mine. 
Our evil genius ! It chastises him 
Through me, the instrument of his ambition ; 
And I expect no less, than that Revenge 
E'en now is whetting for my breast the poignard. 
"Who sows the serpent's teeth, let him not hope 
To reap a joyous harvest. Every crime 
Has, in the moment of its perpetration. 
Its own avenging angel — dark Misgiving, 
An ominous Sinking at the inmost heart. 
He can no longer trust me — Then no longer 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 167 

Can I retreat — so come that which must come. — 
Still destiny preserves its due relations, 
The heart within us is its absolute 
Vicegerent. [^o Tektskt. 

Go, conduct you Gustave "Wrangel 
To my state-cabinet. — Myself will speak to 
The couriers. — And dispatch immediately 
A servant for Octavio Piccolomini. 

[To the Countess, wlio cannot conceal her triumph. 
No exultation ! — woman, triumph not ! 
For jealous are the Powers of Destiny. 
Joy premature, and shouts ere victory, 
Incroach upon their rights and privileges. 
We sow the seed, and they the growth determine. 
[ While he is making his exit the curtain drops. 



ACT V. 

Scene I. — As in the preceding Act. 

Wallenstein, Octavio Piccolomini. 

Wal. \_coming forward in conversation.^ He 
sends me word from Linz, that he lies sick ; 
But I have sure intelligence, that he 
Secretes himself at Frauenberg with Gallas. 
Secure them both, and send them to me hither. 



168 THE riCCOLOMINI ; 

Remember, tliou tak'st on thee tlie command 
Of those same Spanish regiments, — constantly 
Make preparation, and be never ready ; 
And if they urge thee to draw out against me, 
Still answer yes, and stand as thou wert fettered. 
I know, that it is doing thee a service 
To keep thee out of action in this business. 
Thou lov'st to linger on in fair appearances ; 
Steps of extremity are not thy province, 
Therefore have I sought out this part for thee. 
Thou wilt this time be of most service to me 
By thy inertness. The mean time, if fortune 
Declare itself on my side, thou wilt know 
What is to do. 

Enter Max Piccolomini. 
Now go, Octavio. 
This night must thou be off, take my own horses : 
Him here I keep with me — make short farewell — 
Trust me, I think we shall all meet again 
In joy and thriving fortunes. 

Oct. \to his son.] I shall see you 

Yet ere I go. 



Scene IL — Wallenstein, Max riccoLOMiNi. 

3fax. [^adva?ices to Am.] My General ! 
Wal. That am I no longer, if 

Tho?i styl'st thyself the Emperor's officer. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 169 

Max, Then thou wilt leave the array, Gene- 
ral? 
Wal. I have renounced the service of tlie 

Emperor. 
Max. And thou wilt leave the army ? 
Wal. Rather hope I 

To bind it nearer still and faster ta me. 

[He seats himself. 
Yes, Max, I have delayed to open it to thee, 
Even till the hour of acting 'gins to strike. 
Youth's fortunate feeling doth seize easily 
The absolute right, yea, and a joy it is 
To exercise the single apprehension 
Where the sums square in proof; 
But where it happens, that of two sure evils 
One must be taken, where the heart not wliolly 
Brings itself back from out the strife of duties, 
There 'tis a blessing to have no election, 
And blank necessity is grace and favour. 
— This is now present: do not look behind 

thee, — 
It can no more avail thee. Look thou for- 
wards ; 
Think not ! judge not ! prepare thyself to act ! 
The Court — it hath determined on my ruin, 
Therefore I will to be beforehand with them. 
We'll join the Swedes — right gallant fellows are 

they, 
And our good friends. 

[lie Gtops himself, expecting Piccolomini's answer* 



170 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

I have ta'en thee by surprise. Answer me not. 
I grant thee time to recollect thyself. 

[He rises, and retires at the back of the stage. Max 
remains/or a long time motionless, in a trance of ex- 
cessive anguish. At his Jirst motion Wallenstein 
returns, and places himself before him. 

Max. My General, this day thou makest me 
Of age to speak in my own right and person, 
For till this day I have been spared the trouble 
To find out my own road. Thee have I followed 
With most implicit unconditional faith. 
Sure of the right path if I followed thee. 
To-day, for the first time, dost thou refer 
Me to myself, and force st me to make 
Election between thee and my own heart. 

Wal. Soft cradled thee thy Fortune till to-day; 
Thy duties thou couldst exercise in sport, 
Indulge all lovely instincts, act for ever 
With undivided heart. It can remain 
No longer thus. Like enemies, the roads 
Start from each other. Duties strive with duties. 
Thou must needs choose thy party in the war 
Which is now kindling 'twixt thy friend and him 
Who is thy Emperor. 

3Iax. War ! is that the name ? 

War is as frightful as heaven's pestilence. 
Yet it is good, is it heaven's will as that is. 
Is that a good war, which against the Emperor 
Thou wagest with the Emperor's own army ? 
God of heaven ! what a chanoje is this. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 171 

Beseems it me to offer such persuasion 
To thee, who like the fixt star of the pole, 
Wert all I gazed at on life's trackless ocean ? 
O ! what a rent thou makest in mj heart ! 
The ingrained instinct of old reverence. 
The holy habit of obediencj, 
Must I pluck live asunder from thy name? 
Nay, do not turn thy countenance upon me — 
It always was as a god looking at me ! 
Duke Wallenstein, its power is not departed : 
The senses still are in thy bonds, although, 
Bleeding, the soul hath freed itself. 

Wal. Max, hear me. 

Max, ! do it not, I pray thee, do it not ! 
There is a pure and noble soul within thee, 
Knows not of this unblest, unlucky doing. 
Thy will is chaste, it is thy fancy only 
Which hath polluted thee — and innocence. 
It will not let itself be driven away 
From that world-awing aspect. Thou wilt not. 
Thou canst not, end in this. It would reduce 
All human creatures to disloyalty 
Against the nobleness of their own nature. 
'Twill justify the vulgar misbelief. 
Which holdeth nothing noble in free will, 
And trusts itself to impotence alone 
Made powerful only in an unknown power. 

Wal. The world will judge me sternly, I ex- 
pect it. 
Already have I said to my own self 



172 TnE riccoLOMiNi ; 

All thou canst say to me. Who but avoids 
Th' extreme, — can he by going round avoid it ? 
But here there is no choice. Yes — I must use 
Or suffer violence — so stands the case, 
There remains nothing possible but that. 

Max. that is never possible for thee ! 
'Tis the last desperate resource of those 
Cheap souls, to whom their honour, their good 

name 
Is their poor saving, their last worthless keep, 
Which having staked and lost, thej stake them- 
selves 
In the mad rage of gaming. Thou art rich, 
And glorious ; with an unpolluted heart 
Thou canst make conquest of whate'er seems 

highest ; 
But he, who once hath acted infamy, 
Does nothing more in this world. 

WaL \_grasps his hand.'] Calmly, Max ! 

Much that is great and excellent will we 
Perform together yet. And if we only 
Stand on the height with dignity, 'tis soon 
Forgotten, INIax, by what road we ascended. 
Believe me, many a crown shines spotless now, 
That yet was deeply sullied in the winning. 
To the evil spirit doth the earth belong, 
Not to the good. All, that the powers divine 
Send from above, are universal blessings : 
Their light rejoices us, their air refreshes, 
But never yet was man enriched by them : 



OR, THE FIRST PAKT OF AVALLENSTEIN. 173 

In their eternal realm no property 

Is to be struggled for — all there is general. 

The jewel, the all-valued gold we win 

From the deceiving Powers, depraved in nature, 

That dwell beneath the day and blessed sun-light ; 

Not without saci'ifices ate they rendered 

Propitious, and there lives no soul on earth 

That e'er retired unsullied from their service. 

Max, Whate'er is human, to the human being 
Do I allow — and to the vehement 
And striving spirit readily I pardon 
Th' excess of action ; but to thee, my General ! 
Above all others make I large concession. 
For thou must move a world, and be the master — 
He kills thee, who condemns thee to inaction. 
So be it then ! maintain thee in thy post 
By violence. Resist the Emperor, 
And if it must be, force with force repel : 
I will not praise it, yet I can forgive it. 
But not — not to the traitor — yes ! — the word 

Is spoken out 

Not to the traitor can I yield a pardon. 
That is no mere excess ! that is no error 
Of human nature — that is wholly different ; 
that is black, black as the pit of hell ! 

[Wallenstein betrays a sudden agitation. 
Thou canst not hear it natned, and wilt thou do it ? 

turn back to thy duty. That thou canst, 

1 hold it certain. Send me to Vienna. 

I'll make thy peace for thee with th' Emperor. 



174 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

He knows tliee not. But I do know thee. He 
Shall see thee, Duke ! with my unclouded eye, 
And I bring back his confidence to thee. 

Wal. It is too late. Thou know'st not what 
has happened. 

Max. Were it too late, and were things gone 
so far, 
That a crime only could prevent thy fall. 
Then — ^fall ! fall honourably, even as thou stood'st, 
Lose the command. Go from the stage of war. 
Thou canst with splendour do it — do it too 
With innocence. Thou hast lived much for others, 
At length live thou for thy own self. I follow thee. 
My destiny I never part from thine. 

Wal. It is too late ! Even now, while thou art 
losing 
Thy words, one after the other are the mile-stones 
Left fast behind by my post couriers, 
Who bear the order on to Prague and Egra. 

[Max stands as convulsed, with a gesture and countenance 
expressing the most intense anguish. 

Yield thyself to it. We act as we are forced, 
/cannot give assent to my own shame 
And ruin. Thou — no — thou canst not forsake me ! 
So let us do, what must be done, with dignity. 
With a firm step. What am I doing worse 
Than did famed Cassar at the Rubicon, 
When he the legions led against his country. 
The which his country had delivered to him ? 
Had he thrown down the sword, he had been lost, 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 175 

As I were, if I but disarmed myself. 
I trace out something in me of his spirit. 
Give me his luck, that other thing I'll bear. 

[Max quits him abruptly. Wallen stein, startled and 
overpowered, continues looking after him, and is still 
in this posture when Tertsky etiters. 

Scene III. — Wallenstein, Tertsky. 

Ter. Max Piccolomini just left you ? 

Wal. Where is Wrangel ? 

Ter. He is already gone. 

Wal. In such a hurry ? 

Ter. It is as if the earth had swallowed him. 
He had scarce left thee, when I went to seek him. 
I wished some words with him — but he was gone. 
How, when, and where, could no one tell me. Nay 
I half believe it was the devil himself; 
A human creature could not so at once 
Have vanished. 

Illo. [^enters.'] Is it true that thou wilt send 
Octavio ? 

Ter. How, Octavio ! Whither send him ! 

Wal. He goes to Frauenberg, and will lead 
hither 
The Spanish and Italian regiments. 

Illo. No ! 

Nay, Heaven forbid ! 

Wal. And why should Heaven forbid ? 

lUo. Him ! — that deceiver ! Would'st thou trust 
to him 



176 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

The soldiery ? Him wilt thou let slip from thee, 

Now, in the very instant that decides us 

Ter. Thou wilt not do this ! — No ! I pray thee, 

no ! 
Wal. Ye are whimsical. 

lllo. O but for this time, Duke, 

Yield to our warning ! Let him not depart. 
Wal. And why should I not trust him only this 
time, 
Who have always trusted him ? What, then, has 

happened, 
That I should lose my good opinion of him ? 
In complaisance to your whims, not my own, 
I must, forsooth, give up a rooted judgment. 
Think not I am a woman. Having trusted him 
E'en till to-day, to-day too will I trust him. 
Ter. Must it be he — he only ! Send another. 
Wal. It must be he, whom I myself have 
chosen ; 
He is well fitted for the business. Therefore 
I gave it him. 

lllo. Because he's an Italian — 

Therefore is he well fitted for the business. 

Wul. I know you love them not — nor sire nor 
son — 
Because that I esteem them, love them — visibly 
Esteem them, love them more than you and 

others. 
E'en as they merit. Therefore are they eye- 
blights, 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 177 

Thorns in your foot-path. But your jealousies, 

In what affect they me or my concerns ? 

Are they the worse to me because you hate them ? 

Love or hate one another as you will, 

I leave to each man his own moods and likings ; 

Yet know the worth of each of you to me. 

Illo. Von Questenberg, while he was here, was 
always 
Luiking about with this Octavio. 

Wal. It happened with my knowledge and 
permission. 

Illo, I know that secret messengers came to 
him 
From Galas 

Wal. That's not true. 

Illo. thou art blind 

With thy deep-seeing eyes. 

Wal. Thou wilt not shake 

My faith for me — my faith, which founds itself 
On the profoundest science. If 'tis false. 
Then the whole science of the stars is false. 
For know, I have a pledge from fate itself. 
That he is the most faithful of my friends. 

Illo. Hast thou a pledge, that this pledge is 
not false ? 

Wal. There exist moments in the life of man 
When he is nearer the great Soul of the world 
Than is man's custom, and possesses freely 
The power of questioning his destiny : 
And such a moment 'twas, when in the night 

VOL. in. 12 



178 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

Before the action in the plains of Liitzen, 

Leaning against a tree, thoughts crowding thoughts, 

I looked out far upon the ominous plain. 

My whole life, past and future in this moment 

Before my mind's eye glided in procession. 

And to the destiny of the next morning 

The spirit, filled with anxious presentiment, 

Did knit the most removed futurity. 

Then said I also to myself, " So many 

Dost thou command. They follow all thy stars 

And as on some great number set their All 

Upon thy single head, and only man 

The vessel of thy fortune. Yet a day 

Will come, when destiny shall once more scatter 

All these in many a several direction : 

Few be they who will stand out faithful to thee." 

I yearned to know which one was faithfullest 

Of all, this camp included. Great Destiny, 

Give me a sign ! And he shall be the man, 

Who, on the approaching morning, comes the first 

To meet me with a token of his love : 

And thinking this, I fell into a slumber. 

Then midmost in the battle was I led 

In spirit. Great the pressure and the tumult ! 

Then was my horse killed under me : I sank ; 

And over me away all unconcernedly, 

Drove horse and rider — and thus trod to pieces 

I lay, and panted like a dying man. 

Then seized me suddenly a saviour arm ; 

It was Octavio's — I awoke at once, 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 179 

'Twas broad day, and Octavio stood before me. 
" My brother," said he, " do not ride to-day 
The dapj^)le, as yoii*re wont ; but mount the horse 
Which I have chosen for thee. Do it, brother ! 
In love to me. A strong dream warned me so." 
It was the swiftness of tliis horse that snatched mo 
From the hot pursuit of Bannier's dragoons. 
My cousin rode the dapple on that day, 
And never more saw I or horse or rider. 
Illo. That was a chance. 
Wal. [signijicantly.'] There's no such thing as 

chance. 
In brief, 'tis signed and sealed that this Octavio 
Is my good angel — and now no word more. 

[He is retiring. 
Ter. This is my comfort — Max remains our 

hostage. 
Illo. And he shall never stir from here alive. 
Wal, [stops and turns himself round.~\ Are ye 

not like the women, who for ever 
Only recur to their first word, although 
One had been talking reason by the hour ? 
Know, that the human being's thoughts and deeds 
Are not, like ocean billows, blindly moved. 
The inner Avorld, his microcosmus, is 
The deep shaft, out of which they spring eternally. 
They grow by certain laws, like the tree's fruit — 
No juggling chance can metamorphose them. 
Have I the human Jcernel first examined ? 
Then I know, too, the future will and actior 



180 THE PICCOLOMINI; 



Scene IV. — A Chamber in Piccolomini's Dwelling-house. 
OcTAVio PiccoLOMiNi, IsoLANi [entering). 

Iso. Here am I — "Well ! who comes yet of the 

others ? 
Oct. [with an air of mystery.'] But, first, a 

word with you, Count Isolani. 
Iso. [with the same air of mystery.] Will it 
explode, ha ? — Is the Duke about 
To make tli' attempt ? In me, friend, you may 

place 
Full confidence. — Nay, put me to the proof. 
Oct. That may happen. 
Iso. Noble brother, I am 

Not one of those men who in words are valiant, 
And when it comes to action skulk away. 
The Duke has acted t' wards me as a friend. 

God knows it is so ; and I owe him all 

He may rely on my fidelity. 

Oct. Tliat will be seen hereafter. 
Iso. Be on your guard, 

All think not as I think ; and there are many 
Who still hold with the Court — yes, and they say 
That those stol'n signatures bind them to nothing. 
Oct. I am rejoiced to hear it. 
Iso. You rejoice ! 

Oct. That the Emperor has yet such gallant 
servants, 
And loving friends. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 181 

Iso. Nay, jeer not, I entreat you. 

They are no such worthless fellows, I assure you. 

Oct I am assured already. God forbid 
That I should jest ! — In very serious earnest 
I am rejoiced to see an honest cause 
So strong. 

Iso. The devil ! — what ! — why, what means 
this? 
Ai-e you not, then For what, then, am I here ? 

Oct. That you may make full declaration, 
whether 
You will be called the friend or enemy 
Of th' P^mperor. 

Iso. [with an air of defiance.'] That declara- 
tion, friend, 
I'll make to him in whom a right is placed 
To put that question to me. 

Oct. Whether, Count, 

That right is mine, this paper may instruct you. 

Iso. [stammering.'] Why, — why — what ! This 
is the Emperor's hand and seal! 

[Reads. 
" Whereas the officers collectively 
Throughout our army will obey the orders 
Of the Lieutenant-General Piccolomini. 

As from ourselves." Hem! — Yes! so! — Yes! 

yes ! — 
T — I give you joy, Lieutenant-General ! 

Oct. And you submit you to the order? 

Iso. I . 



182 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

But you have taken me so by surprise — 

Time for reflection one must have 

Oct. Two minutes* 

Iso. My God ! But then the case is 

Oct, Plain and simple. 

You must declare you, whether you determine 
To act a treason 'gainst your Lord and Sovereign, 
Or whether you will serve him faithfully. 

Iso. Treason ! — My God ! — But who talks then 

of treason? 
Oct. That is the case. The Prince-duke is a 
traitor — 
Means to lead over to the enemy 
The Emperor's army. — Now, Count ! — brief and 

full- 
Say, will you break your oath to th' Emperor ? 
Sell yourself to the enemy ? — Say, will you ? 
Iso. What mean you ? I — I break my oath, 
d'ye say. 
To his Imperial Majesty? 
Did I say so ? — When, Avhen have I said that ? 
Oct. You have not said it yet — not yet. This 
instant 
I wait to hear. Count, whether you will say it. 
Iso. Ay ! that delights me now, that you your- 
self 
Bear witness for me that I never said so. 
Oct. And you renounce the Duke then ? 
Iso. If he's planning 

Treason — -why, treason breaks all bonds asunder. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEllSr. 183 

Oct. And are determined, too, to figlit against 

him ? 
Iso. He has done me service — but if he's a 
villain, 
Perdition seize him ! — All scores are rubbed off. 
Oct. I am rejoiced that you're so well dis- 
posed. 
This night break off in th' utmost secrecy 
With all the light-armed troops — it must appear 
As came the order from the Duke himself 
At Frauenberg's the place of rendezvous ; 
There will Count Gallas give your further orders. 
Iso. It shall be done. But you'll remember me 
With th' Emperor — how w^ell disposed you found 
me. 
Oct. I will not fail to mention it honourably. 

[Exit IsoLANi. A Servant enters. 
What, Colonel Butler ! — Show him up. 

Iso. [_returning.~\ Forgive me too my bearish 
ways, old father ! [great 

Lord God, how should I know, then, what a 
Person I had before me. 

Oct. No excuses ! 

Iso. I am a merry lad, and if at time 
A rash word might escape me 'gainst the Court 
Amidst my wine — You know no harm was 
meant. [Exit. 

Oct. You need not be uneasy on that score. 
That has succeeded. Fortune favour us 
With all the others only but as much ! 



184 THE PICCOLOMINI 



Scene V. — Octavio Piccolomini, Butlek. 

But. At your command, Lieutenant- General. 

Oct. Welcome, as honoured friend and visitor. 

But. You do me too much honour. 

Oct. \_after both have seated themselves.'\ You 
have not 
Returned the advances which I made you yester- 
day — 
Misunderstood them, as mere empty forms. 
That wish proceeded from my heart — I was 
In earnest with you — for 'tis now a time 
In which the honest should unite most closely. 

But. 'Tis only the like-minded can unite. 

Oct. True ! and I name all honest men like- 
minded. 
I never charge a man but with those acts 
To which his character deliberately 
Impels him ; for alas ! the violence 
Of blind misunderstandings often thrusts 
The very best of us from the right track. 
You came through Frauenberg. Did the Count 

Gallas 
Say nothing to you ? Tell me. He's my friend 

But. His words were lost on me. 

Oct. It gi-ieves me sorely, 

To hear it : for his counsel was most wise. 
I had myself the like to offer. 

Btit. Spare 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 185 

Yourself the trouble — me tli' embarrassment, 
To have deserved so ill your good opinion. 

Oct. The time is precious — let us talk openly. 
You know how matters stand here. Wallenstein 
Meditates treason — T can tell you further — ■ 
He has committed treason; but few hours 
Have past, since he a covenant concluded 
With th' enemy. The messengers are now 
Full on their way to Egra and to Prague. 
To-morrow he intends to lead us over 
To th' enemy. But he deceives himself; 
For prudence wakes — the Emperor has still 
Many and faithful friends here, and they stand 
In closest union, mighty though unseen. 
This manifesto sentences the Duke — 
Recalls the obedience of the army from him, 
And summons all the loyal, all the honest. 
To join and recognize in me their leader. 
Choose — will you share with us an honest cause ? 
Or with the evil share an evil lot. 

But. \_rises.~\ His lot is mine. 

Oct. Is that your last resolve ? 

But. It is. 

Oct. Nay, but bethink you, Colonel Butler ! 
As yet you have time. Within my faithful breast 
That rashly uttered word remains interred. 
Recall it, Butler ! choose a better party : 
You have not chosen the right one. 

But. \_going.~\ Any other 

Commands for me, Lieutenant-General ? 



186 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

Oct. See your wliite hairs ! Recall tliat word ! 

But Farewell ! 

Oct. What would you draw this good and 
gallant sword 
In such a cause ? Into a curse would you 
Transform the gratitude which you have earned 
By forty years' fidelity from Austria ? 

But. [laugldng with bitterness.'] Gratitude from 
the House of Austria. [He is going. 

Oct. [^permits him to go as far as the door, then 
calls after him.'] Butler ! 

But. What wish you ? 

Oct. How was't with the Count ? 

But. Count ? what ? 

Oct. [coldly.] The title that you wished I mean. 

But. [starts in sudden passion.] Hell and 
damnation ! 

Oct. \coldly.] You petitioned for it — 
And your petition was repelled — Was it so? 

But. Your insolent scoff shall not go by un- 
punished. 
Draw ! 

Oct. Nay ! your sword to 'ts sheath ! and tell 
me calmly, 
How all that happened. I will not refuse you 
Your satisfaction afterwards. — Calmly, Butler ! 

But. Be the whole world acquainted with the 
weakness 
For which I never can forgive myself. 
Lieutenant- General ! Yes — I have ambition. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 187 

Ne'er was I able to endure contempt. 

It stung me to the quick, that birth and title 

Should have more weight than merit has in th' 

army. 
I would fain not be meaner than my equal, 
So in an evil hour I let myself 
Be tempted to that measure — It was folly ! 
But yet so hard a penance it deserved not. 
It might have been refused ; but wherefore barb 
And venom the refusal with contempt? 
Why dash to earth and crush with heaviest 

scorn 
The gray-haired man, the faithful veteran ? 
"Why to the baseness of his parentage 
Refer him with such cruel roughness, only 
Because he had a weak hour and foi'got himself! 
But nature gives a sting e'en to the worm 
Which wanton power treads on in sport and in- 
sult. 
Oct, You must have been calumniated. Guess 
you 
The enemy, who did you this ill service ? 

But. Be't who it will — a most low-hearted 
scoundrel. 
Some vile court-rainion must it be, some Spaniard, 
Some young squire of some ancient family. 
In whose light I may stand, some envious knave, 
Stung to his soul by my fair self-earned honours ! 
Oct. But tell me ! Did the Duke approve that 
measure ? 



188 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

But. Himself impelled me to it, used his in- 
terest 
In my behalf with all the warmth of friendship. 
Oct. Ay ? Are you sure of that ? 
But. I read the letter. 

Oct. And so did I — but the contents were dif- 
ferent. [Butler is suddenly struck. 
By chance I'm in possession of that letter — 
Can leave it to your own eyes to convince you. 

[He gives him the letter. 

But. Ha ! what is this ? 

Oct. I fear me, Colonel Butler, 

An infamous game have they been playing with 

you. 
The Duke, you say, impelled you to this measure ? 
Now, in this letter talks he in contempt 
Concerning you, counsels the Minister 
To give sound chastisement to your conceit. 
For so he calls it. 

[Butler reads through the letter, his knees tremble, he 
seizes a chair, and sinks down in it. 

You have no enemy, no persecutor ; 
There's no one wishes ill to you. Ascribe 
The insult you received to the Duke only. 
His aim is clear and palpable. He wisiied 
To tear you from your Emperor — he hoped 
To gain from your revenge what he well knew 
(What your long-tried fidelity convinced him) 
He ne'er could dare expect fro mi your calm reason. 
A blind tool would he make you, in contempt 



Use you, as means of most abaridoned ends. 
He has gained his point. Too ^Yell has he suc- 
ceeded 
In luring you away from that good path 
On which you had been journeying forty years ! 
But. [his voice trembling.'] Can e'er the Em- 
peror's Majesty forgive me ? 
Oct. More than forgive you. He would fain 
compensate 
For that affront, and most unmerited grievance 
Sustained by a deserving, gallant veteran. 
From his free impulse he confirms the present. 
Which the Duke made you for a wicked pur- 
pose. 
The regiment, which you now command, is yours. 

[Butler attempts to rise, sinks down again. He /a- 
hours inLcardly with violent emotions ; tries to speak, 
and cannot. At length he takes his sword from the belt, 
andoffirs it to Piccolomini. 

Oct. What wish you? Recollect yourself, 

friend. 
But. Take it. 

Oct. But to what purpose ? Calm yourself. 
But. take it ! 

I am no longer worthy of this sword. 

Oct. Iveceive it then anew from my hands — • 

and 
Wear it with honour for the right cause ever. 
But. Perjure myself to such a gracious 

Sovereinrn ! 



190 THE PICCOLOMINI; 

Oct. You'll make amends. Quick ! break off 
from the Duke ! 

But. Break off from him ! 

Oct. What now ? Bethink thyself. 

But. [no longer governing his emotion.^ Only 
break off from him ? — He dies ! he dies ! 

Oct. Come after me to Frauenberg, where now 
All who are loyal are assembling under 
Counts Altringer and Gallas. Many others 
I've brought to a remembrance of their duty. 
This night be sure, that you escape from Pilsen. 

But. [Butler strides zip and doum in exces- 
sive agitation, then steps up to Oct. with resolved 
countenance.'] Count Piccolomini ! Dare that man 

speak 
Of honour to you, who once broke his troth. 

Oct. He who repents so deeply of it, dares. 

But. Then leave me here, upon my word of 
honour ! 

Oct. What's your design ? 

But. Leave me and my regiment. 

Oct. I have full confidence in you. But tell me 
What are you brooding ? 

But. That the deed will tell you. 

Ask me no more at present. Trust to me. 
Ye may trust safely. By the living God 
Ye give him over not to his good angel ! 
Farewell. [Exit Butler. 

Ser. [enters with a billet.'] A stranger left it 
and is gone. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. 191 

The Prince-duke*s horses wait for you below. 

[Exit Servant. 
Oct [reads.] " Be sure, make haste ! Your 
faithful Isolan." 
— O that I had but left this town behind me. 
To split upon a rock so near the haven ! — 
Away ! this is no longer a safe place for me ! 
Where can my son be tarrying ? 

Scene VI. — Octavio anc? Max Piccolomini. — Max 

enters in a state of derangement from extreme agitation, 
his eyes roll wildly, his ivalk is unsteady, he appears net 
to observe his father, who stands at a distance, and gazes 
at him with a countenance expressive of compassion. He 
pace^ ivith long strides through the chamber, then stands 
still again, and at last throws himself into a chair, staring 
vacantly at the object directly before him. 

Oct. [^advances to Max.] I am going oif, my son. 

• [Receiving no answer, he takes his hand. 

My son, farewell. 

Max. Farewell. 

Oct. Thou wilt soon follow me ? 

Max. I follow thee ? 

Thy way is crooked — it is not my way. 

[Octavio drops his hand, and starts bach. 
0, hadst thou been but simple and sincere, 
Ne'er had it come to this — all had stood otherwise. 
He had not done that foul and horrible deed : 
The virtuous had retained their influence o'er him : 
He had not fallen into the snares of villains. 
"Wherefore so like a thief, and thief's accomplice 



192 THE PICCOLOMINI. 

Did'st creep behind him — ^lurking for thy prey ? 
0, iinblest falsehood ! Mother of all evil ! 
Thou misery-making demon, it is thou 
That sink'st us in perdition. Simple truth, 
Sustainer of the world, had saved us all ! 
Father, I will not, I cannot excuse thee ! 
Wallenstein has deceived me — O, most foully ! 
But thou hast acted not much better. 

Oct. Son ! 

My son, ah ! I forgive thy agony ! 

31ax. [rises and contemplates Ms father with 
looks of suspicion.'] Was't possible ? had'st thou 

the heart, my father, 
Had'st thou the heart to drive it to such lengths, 
With cold premeditated purpose? Thou — 
Had'st thou the heart, to wish to see him guilty, 
Rather than saved ? Thou risest by his fall. 
Octavio, 'twill not please me. 

Oct. God in heaven ! 

Max. woe is me ! sure I have changed my 
nature. 
How comes suspicion here — in the free soul ? 
Hope, confidence, belief, are gone ; for all 
Lied to me, all what I e'er loved or honoured. 
No ! No ! Not all ! She — she yet lives for me, 
And she is true, and open as the heavens ! 
Deceit is everywhere, hypocrisy. 
Murder, and poisoning, treason, perjury : 
The single holy spot is now our love. 
The only unprofaned in human nature. 



OB, THE FIRST PART OF AVALLENSTEIN. 1 93 

Oct. Max. ! — we will go together. 'Twill be 
better. 

Max. What ? ere I've taken a last parting leave, 
The very last — no, never 1 

Oct. Spare thyself 

The pang of necessary separation. 
Come with me ! Come, my son ! 

[Attempts to take him with him. 

Max. No ! as sure as God lives, no ! 

Oct. [more urgently.'] Come with me, I com- 
mand thee ! I, thy fatlier. 

Max. Command me what is human. I stay 
here. 

Oct. Max ! in the Emperor's name I bid thee 
come. 

Max. No Emperor has power to prescribe 
Laws to the heart ! and would'st thou wish to 

rob me 
Of the sole blessing which my fate has left me, 
Her sympathy ? Must then a cruel deed 
Be done with cruelty ? The unalterable 
Shall I perform ignobly — steal away, 
With stealthy coward flight forsake her? No ! 
She shall behold my suffering, my sore anguish, 
Hear the complaints of the disparted soul. 
And weep tears o'er me. Oh ! the human race 
Have steely souls — but she is as an angel. 
From the black deadly madness of despair 
Will she redeem my soul, and in soft words 
Of comfort, plaining, loose this pang of death ! 

VOL. III. 13 



194 THE PICCOLOMINI ; 

Oct. Thou will not tear thyself away ; thou 
canst not. 
O, come, my son ! I bid thee save thy virtue. 

Max. Squander not thou thy words in vain. 
The heart I follow, for I dare trust to it. 

Oct. [tremhling and losing all self-command.'] 
Max ! Max ! if that most damned thing could be. 
If thou — my son — my own blood — (dare I think 

it?) 

Do sell thyself to him, the infamous, 

Do stamp this brand upon our noble house, 

Then shall the world behold the horrible deed, 

And in unnatural combat shall the steel 

Of the son trickle with the father's blood. 

Max. O hadst thou always better thought of 
men, 
Thou hadst then acted better. Curst suspicion ! 
Unholy miserable doubt ! To him 
Nothing on earth remains unwrenched and firm, 
Who has no faith. 

Oct. And if I trust thy heart, 

Will it be always in thy power to follow it ? 

Max. The heart's voice thou hast not o'er- 
power'd — as little 
Will Wallenstein be able to o'erpower it. 

Oct. O, Max ! I see thee never more again ! 

Max. Unworthy of thee wilt thou never see me. 

Oct. I go to Frauenberg — the Pappenheimers 
I leave thee here, the Lothrings too ; Toscana 
And Tiefenbach remain here to protect thee. 



OR, THE FIRST PART OF AYALLENSTEIN. 195 

They love tliee, and are faithful to their oath, 

And -will far rather fall in gallant contest 

Than leave their rightful leader, and their honour. 

Max. Rely on this, I either leave my life 
In the struggle, or conduct them out of Pilsen. 

Oct, Farewell, my son ! 

Max. Farewell ! 

Oct. How ? not one look 

Of filial love ? No grasp of th' hand at parting ? 

It is a bloody war, to which we are going, 

And the event uncertain and in darkness. 

So used we not to part — it was not so ! 

Is it then true, I have a son no longer ? 

[MAx/a//s into Ms arms; they hold each other for a long 
time in a speechless embrace, then go away at different 
sides-l 



The Curtain drops. 



THE 

DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

A TRAGEDY IN FIVE ACTS. 



DRAMATIS PERSONJ:. 

Wallenstein, Dvke of Friedland, Generalissimo of the Im- 
perial Forces in the Thirty Years' War. 

Duchess of Friedland, Wife of Wallenstein. 

Thekla, her Daughter, Princess of Friedland. 

The Countess Tektsky, Sister of the Duchess. 

Lady Neubkunn. 

OcTAVio Piccolomini, Lieutenant- General. 

Max Piccolomini, his Son, Colonel of a Regiment of Cui- 
rassiers. 

Count Tertsky, tlie Commander of several Regiments^ and 
Brother-in-Law of Wallenstein. 

Illo, Field-Marshal, Wallenstein' s Confidant. 

Butler, an Irishman, Commander of a Regiment of Dragoons. 

Gordon, Governor of Egra. 

Major Geraldin. 

Captain Devereux. 

Captain Macdonald. 

Neumann, Captain of Cavalry, Aiderck-Camp to Terteky. 

Swedish Captain. 

Seni. 

Burgomaster of Egra. 

Anspessade of the Cuirassiers. 

Groom of the Chamber, ) , , . , ,, T^ , 
. p J beumgmg to the Duke. 

Cuirassiers, Dragoons, Servants. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 



ACT I. 

Scene I. — A Chamber in the House of the Duchess of 
Friedland. Countess Tertskt, Thekla, Lady 

Neubrunn. {The two latter sit at the same table at 
work.) 

Coun. [watching them from the o^iposite side.'\ 
So you have nothing, niece, to ask me ? 
Nothing ? 
I have been waiting for a word from you. 
And could you then endure in all this time 
Not once to speak his name ? 

[Thekla remaining silent, the Countess rises and ad- 
vances to her, 

Why comes this ? 
Perhaps I am already grown superfluous, 
And other ways exist, besides through me ? 
Confess it to me, Thekla ! have you seen him ? 
Thek. To-day and yesterday I have not seen 

him. 
Conn. And not heard from him either ? Come 
be open ! 



200 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Theh Ko syllable. 

Coun. And still jou are so calm ? 

Thek. I am. 

ijoun. JMay't please you, leave us, Lady Neu- 
brunn ! [A'x/f Lady Keubrunn. 



Scene II. — The Countess, Thekla. 

doun. It does not please me, Princess! that 
he holds 
Himself so stilly exactly at this time. 
Thek. Exactly at this time ? 
Coun. He now knows all. 

'Twere now the moment to declare himself. 
Thek. If I'm to understand you, speak less 

darkly, 
Coun. 'Tvvas for that purpose that I bade her 
leave us. 
Thekla, you are no more a child. Your heart 
Is now no more in nonage : for you love. 
And boldness dwells with love — that you have 

proved. 
Your nature moulds itself upon your father's 
More than your mother's spirit. Therefore may 

you 
Hear, what were too much for her fortitude. 
Thek. Enough! no further preface, I entreat 
you. 
At once out with it ! Be it what it may, 



THE DEATH OF WALLENS T KIX. 201 

It is not possible that it should torture me 
More than this introduction. What have you 
To say to me ? Tell me the whole and briefly ! 

Coun. You'll not be frightened — 

Theh, Name it, I entreat you. 

Coun. It lies within your power to do your 
father 
A weighty service — 

Thek. Lies within viy power? 

Coun. Max Piccolomini loves you. You can 
link him 
Indissolubly to your father. 

Thek. I? 

What need of me for that ? And is he not 
Already linked to him ? 

Coun. He was. 

Thek. And wherefore 

Should he not be so now — not be so always ? 

Coun. He cleaves to th' Emperor too. 

Thek. Not more than duty 

And honour may demand of him. 

Coun. We ask 

Proofs of his love, and not proofs of his honour. 
Duty and honour ! 

Those are ambiguous words with many meanings. 
You should interpret them for him : his love 
Should be the sole definer of his honour. 

Thek. How? 

Coun. Th' Emperor or you must he re- 



202 THE DEATU OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Thek. He will accompany my father gladly 
In his retirement. From himself you heard, 
How much he wished to lay aside the sword. 

Goun, He must not lay the sword aside, we 
mean ; 
"He must unsheath it in your flither's cause. 

Tliek. He'll spend with gladness and alacrity 
His life, his heart's blood in my father's cause, 
If shame or injury be intended him. 

Coun. You will not understand me. Well, 
hear then ! 
Your father has fallen off from the Emperor. 
And is about to join the enemy 
With the whole soldiery — 

Thek. Alas, my mother ! 

Coun, There needs a great example to draw on 
The army after him. The Piccolomini 
Possess the love and reverence of the troops ; 
They govern all opinions, and wherever 
They lead the way, none hesitate to follow. 
The son secures the father to our interests — 
Y'ou've much in your hands at this moment. 

Thek. Ah, 

My miserable mother ! what a death-stroke 
Awaits thee ! — No ! She never will survive it. 

Coun. She will accommodate her soul to that 
Which is and must be. I do know your mother 
The far-oflf future weighs upon her heart 
With torture of anxiety ; but is it 
Unalterably, actually present, 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 203 

She soon resigns herself, and bears it calmlj. 

Theh. O my foreboding bosom ! Even now, 
E'en now 'tis here, that icy hand of horror ! 
And my young hope lies shuddering in its grasp ; 
I knew it well — no sooner had I entered, 
A heavy ominous presentiment 
Kevealed to me, that spirits of death were hovering 
Over my happy fortune. But why think I 
First of myself? My mother ! my mother ! 

Coun. Calm yourself! Break not out in vain 
lamenting ! 
Preserve you for your father the firm friend. 
And for yourself the lover, all will yet 
Prove good and fortunate. 

Theh, Prove ^ooc?? What good? 

Must we not part ? Part ne'er to meet again ? 

Coun. He parts not from you. He can not 
part from you. 

Thek. Alas for his sore anguish ! It will rend 
His heart asunder. 

Coun. If indeed he loves you, 

His resolution will be speedily taken. 

Thek. His resolution will be speedily taken — 
O do not doubt of that ! A resolution ! 
Does there remain one to be taken ? 

Coun. Hush ! 

Collect yourself ! I hear your mother coming. 

Thek. How shall I bear to see her ? 

Coun, Collect yourself. 



204 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN". 



Scene III. — To them enter the Duchess. 

Duch. [to the Countess.] Who was here sis- 
ter ? I heard some one talkhig, 
And passionately too. 

Coun, Nay ! There was no one. 

Duch, I am grown so timorous, every trifling 
noise 
Scatters my spirits, and announces to me 
The footstep of some messenger of evil. 
And can you tell me, sister, what the event is ? 
"Will he agree to do the Emperor's pleasure, 
And send th' horse regiments to the Cardinal ? 
Tell me, has he dismissed Von Questenberg 
With a favourable answer ? 

Conn, No, he has not. 

Duch. Alas ! then all is lost ! I see it coming, 
The worst that can come ! Yes, they will depose 

him; 
The accursed business of the Regenspurg diet 
Will all be acted o'er again ! 

Coun. No ! never ! 

Make your heart easy, sister, as to that. 

[Thekla, in extreme agitation, throws herself upon her 
Mother, and enfolds her in her arms, weeping. 

Duch. Yes, my poor child ! 
Thou too hast lost a most affectionate godmother 
In th' Empress. O that stern unbending man ! 
In this unhappy marriage what have I 
Not suffered, not endured ! For ev'n as if 



THE DEATH OP WALLENSTEIN. 205 

I had been linked on to some wheel of fii-e 
That restless, ceaseless, wlnrls impetuous onward, 
I have passed a life of frights and horrors with 

him. 
And ever to tlie brink of some abyss 
With dizzy headlong violence he whirls me. 
Nay, do not weep, my child ! Let not my suf- 
ferings 
Presignify unhappiness to thee, 
Nor blacken with their shade the fate that waits 

thee. 
There lives no second Friedland ; thou, my child, 
Hast not to fear thy mother's destiny. 

Theh. let us supplicate him, dearest mother! 
Quick ! quick ! here's no abiding place for us. 
Here every coming hour broods into life 
Some new affrightful monster. 

Duch, Thou wilt share 

An easier, calmer lot, my child ! We too, 
I and thy father, witnessed happy days. 
Still think I with delight of those first years, 
When he was making progress with glad effort, 
When his ambition was a genial fire, 
Not that consuming Jlame which now it is. 
The Emperor loved him, trusted him : and all 
He undertook could not but be successful. 
But since that ill-starred day at Regensburg, 
Which plunged him headlong from his dignity, 
A gloomy uncompanionable spirit, 
Unsteady and suspicious, has possessed him. 



206 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

His quiet mind forsook him, and no longer 

Did he yield up himself in joy and faith 

To his old luck, and individual power; 

But thenceforth turned his heart and best affections 

All to those cloudy sciences, which never 

Have yet made happy him who followed them. 

Coun. You see it, sister ! as your eyes permit 
you. 
But surely this is not the conversation 
To pass the time in which we are waiting for him. 
You know he will be soon here. Would you 

have him 
Find her in this condition ? 

Duch. Come, my child ! 

Come, wipe away thy tears, and show thy father 
A cheerful countenance. See, the tie-knot here 
Is off — this hair must not hang so dishevelled. 
Come, dearest ! dry thy tears up. They deform 
Thy gentle eye — well now — what was I saying ? 
Yes, in good truth, this Piccolomini 
Is a most noble and deserving gentleman. 

Coun. That is he, sister ! 

Theh. [to the Countess, with marks of great op- 
pression of spirits.'] Aunt, you will excuse me? 

[Is going. 

Coun. But whither ? See, your father comes. 

Thek. I cannot see him now. 

Coun. Nay, but bethink you. 

Thek. Believe me, I cannot sustain his presence. 

Coun. But he will miss you, will ask after you. 



THE DEATH OP WALLENSTEIN. 207 

Duch. What now ? Why is she going ? 
Coun. She's not well. 

Duch. [^anxiously."] What ails then mj beloved 
child? 

{Both follow the Princess, and endeavour to detain her. 
During this "Wallenstein appears, engaged in 
conversation with Illo. 



Scene IV. — Wallenstein, Illo, Countess, Duchess, 
Thekla. 

IFal. All quiet in the camp ? 

Jllo. It is all quiet. 

Wal. In a few hours may couriers come from 
Prague 
With tidings, that this capital is ours. 
Then we may drop the mask, and to the troops 
Assembled in this town make known the measure 
And its result together. In such cases 
Example does the whole. Whoever is foremost 
Still leads the herd. An imitative creature 
Is man. The troops at Prague conceive no other, 
Than that the Pilsen army has gone through 
The forms of homage to us ; and in Pilsen 
They shall swear fealty to us, because 
The example has been given them by Prague. 
Butler, you tell me, has declared himself. 

Illo. At his own bidding, unsolicited. 
He came to offer you himself and regiment. 

Wal. I find we must not give implicit credence 
To every warning voice that makes itself 



208 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN". 

Be listened to in tli' heart. To hold us back, 
Oft does the lying spirit counterfeit 
The voice of truth and inward revelation, 
Scattering false oracles. And thus have I 
To intreat forgiveness, for that secretly 
I've wrong'd this honourable gallant man. 
This Butler : for a feeling, of the which 
I am not master, {^fear I would not call it) 
Creeps o'er me instantly, with sense of shuddering. 
At his approach, and stops love's joyous motion. 
And this same man, against whom I am warned. 
This honest man is he, who reaches to me 
The first pledge of my fortune. 

lllo. And doubt not 

That his example will win over to you 
The best men in the army. 

WaL Go and send 

Isolani hither. Send him immediately. 
He is under recent obligations to me. 
With him will I commence the trial. Go. 

[Illo exit. 

Wal. [^tiirns himself round to the females.^ Lo, 
there the mother with the darling daughter ! 
For once we'll have an interval of rest — 
Come ! my heart yearns to live a cloudless hour 
In the beloved circle of my family. 

Coun. 'Tis long since we've been thus together, 

brother. 
Wal. [to the Countess aside.'] Can she sustain 
the news ? Is she prepared ? 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 209 

Court. Not yet. 

Wat, Come here, my sweet girl ! Seat tliee by 
me, 
For there is a good spirit on thy lips. 
Thy mother praised to me thy ready skill : 
She says a voice of melody dwells in thee, 
Which doth enchant the soul. Now such a voice 
Will drive avvny from me the evil demon 
That beats his black wings close above my head. 

Duch. Where is thy lute, my daughter ? Let 
thy father 
Hear some small trial of thy skill. 

Theh. My mother ! 

I— 

Duch. Trembling ? Come, collect thyself. Go, 
cheer 
Thy father. 

Theh O my mother ! I — I cannot. 

Coun. How, what is that, niece ? 

TheJc. [to the Countess.] O spare me — sing — 
now — in this sore anxiety 
Of the o'erburthened soul — to sing to him, 
Who is thrusting, even now, my mother headlong 
Into her grave ! 

Duch. How, Thekla ? Humoursome ? 

What ! shall thy father have expressed a wish 
Tn vain ? 

Coun. Here is the lute. 

Theh My God ! how can I— 

[The orchestra plays. During the ritornello Thekla 

VOL. III. 14 



210 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

expresses in her gestures and countenance the struggle 
of her feelings : and at the moment that she should 
begin to sing, contracts herself together, as one shud- 
dering, throws the instrument down, and retires ah- 
ruptljf.] 

Duch. My child ! O she is ill — 

Wal. What ails the maiden ? 

Say, is she often so ? 

Coun. Since then herself 

Has now betrayed it, I too must no longer 
Conceal it. 

Wal What? 

Coun. She loves him ! 

< Wal. Loves him ! Whom ? 

Coun. Max does she love ! Max Piccolomini. 
Hast thou ne'er noticed it ? Nor yet my sister ? 

Duch. Was it this that lay so heavy on her 
heart ? 
God's blessing on thee, my sweet child ! Thou 

needest 
Never take shame upon thee for thy choice. 

Coun. This journey, — if 'twere not thy aim, 
ascribe it 
To thine own self. Thou should'st have chosen 

another 
To have attended her. 

Wal. And does he know it ? 

Coun. Yes, and he hopes to win her. 

Wal. Hopes to win her I 

Is the boy mad ? 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTETN. 211 

Court. Well — hear it from themselves. 

Wal. He thinks to carry off Duke Friedland's 
daughter ! 
Ay ? — The thought pleases me. 
The young man has no grovelling spirit. 

Coun. Since 

Such and such constant favour you have shown 
him 

Wal. He chooses finally to be my heir. 
And true it is, I love the youth ; yea, honour him. 
But must he therefore be my daughter's husband ! 
Is it daughters only ? Is it only children 
That we must show our favour by ? 

Duch. His noble disposition and his manners — 

Wal. Win him my heart, but not my daughter. 

Duch. Then 

His rank, his ancestors — 

Wal. Ancestors ! What ? 

He is a subject, and my son-in-law 
I will seek out upon the thrones of Europe. 

Duch. O dearest Albrecht ! Climb we not too 
high. 
Lest we should fall too low. 

Wal. What ? have I paid 

A price so heavy to ascend this eminence, 
And jut out high above the common herd, 
Only to close the mighty part I play 
In life's great drama, with a common kinsman ? 
Have I for this — {Stops suddenly^ repressing himself. 
She is the only thing 



212 THE DEATH OF WALEEXSTEIN. 

That "will remain bcliiiul of me on earth ; 
And I will see a erowii around her head, 
Or die in the attempt to place it there. 
I hazard all — all ! and for this alone, 
To lift her into greatness — 
Yea, in this moment, in the which we are speak- 
ing — \IIe recollects himself. 
And I must now, like a soft-hearted father, 
Couple together in good peasant fashion 
The pair,, that chance to suit each other's liking — • 
And I must do it now, even now, when I 
Am stretching out the wreath that is to twine 
My full accomplished work — no ! she is the jewel, 
Which I have treasured long, my last, my noblest. 
And 'tis my purpose not to let her from me 
For less than a king's sceptre. 

Duch. O my husband ! 

You're ever building, building to the clouds, 
Still building higher, and still higher building, 
And ne'er reflect, that the poor narrow basis 
Cannot sustain the giddy tottering column. 

Wal. [to the Countess.] Have you announced 
the place of residence 
Which I have destined for her ? 

Coun. No ! not yet. 

'Twere better you yourself disclosed it to her. 

Duch. How ? Do we not return to Karn then ? 

Wal No. 

Duch. And to no other of your lands or seats ? 

Wal. You would not be secure there. 



THE DKATII OF WALLKN3TKIN. 213 

Duch, Not secure 

111 the Emperor's realms, beneath the Emperor's 
Protection ? 

Wal. Friedland's wife may be permitted 
No longer to hope that. 

Duch. O God in heaven ! 

And have you brouglit it even to this? 

Wal. In Holland 

You'll find protection. 

JJach. In a Luthei-an country ? 

"Wiiat ? And you send us into Lutliei'an countries? 

Wal. Duke Franz of Laueiiburg conducts you 
thither. 

Duch. Duke Franz of Lauenburg ? 
The ally of Sweden, the Emperor's enemy ! 

Wal. The Emperor's enemies are mine no 
longer. 

Duch. \casting a look of terror on the Duke 
and the Countess.] Is it then true ? It is. You 

are degraded ? 
Deposed from the command ? God in heaven ! 

Coun. [aside to the Duke.] Leave her in this 
belief. Thou seest she cannot 
Support the real truth. 

Scene V. — To them enter Count Tertsky. 

Coun, — Tertsky, 

What ails him ? What an image of affright ! 
He looks as he had seen a ghost. 



214 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Ter. [leading Wallenstein aside.'] Is it thy 
command that all the Croats — 

Wal Mme ! 

Ter. We are betrayed. 

Wal What ? 

Ter. They are off! This night 

The Jagers likewise — all the villages 
In the whole round are empty. 

Wal. Isolani ? 

Ter, Him thou hast sent away. Yes, surely. 

Wal. I? 

Ter. No ! Hast thou not sent him off ? Nor 
Deodate ? 
They are vanished both of them. 

Scene VI. — To them enter Illo. 

Illo. Has Tertsky told thee ? 

Ter. He knows all. 

Illo. ' And likewise 

That Esterhazy, Goetz, Maradas, Kaunitz, 
Kolalto, Palfi, have forsaken thee ? 

Ter. Damnation ! 

Wal. \winhs at them.] Hush ! 

Coun. [who has been watching them anxiously 
from the distance, and now advances to them.] 
Tertsky ! Heaven ! What is it ? What has hap- 
pened ? 

Wal. [scarcely suppressing his emotions.] No- 
thing ! let us be gone ! 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 215 

Ter. \_following him.'] Theresa, it is nothing. 
Coun. [holding him hack.'] Nothing ? Do I not 
see, that all the life-blood 
Has left your cheeks — look you not like a ghost ? 
That even my brother but affects a calmness ? 
Page, [^enters.] An Aide-de-Camp inquires 
for the Count Tertsky. 

[Tertskt/o/Ws the Page. 
Wal. Go, hear his business. 
[_To Illo.] This could not have happened 
So unsuspected without mutiny. 
Who was on guard at the gates ? 

Illo. 'Twas Tiefenbach. 

Wal. Let Tiefenbach leave guard without delay, 
And Tertsky's grenadiers relieve him. 

[Illo is going. 
Stop! 
Hast thou heard aught of Butler ? 

Illo. Him I met. 

He will be here himself immediately. 
Butler remains unshaken. 

[Illo exit. Wallenstein is following Mm. 
Coun. Let him not leave thee, sister ! go, detain 
him ! 
There's some misfortune. 

Duck, [clinging to him.] Gracious heaven ! 

What is it ? 
Wal. Be tranquil ! leave me, sister ! dearest 
wife ! 
We are in camp, and this is nought unusual j 



216 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Here storm and sunshine follow one another 
"With rapid interchanges. These fierce spirits 
Champ the curb angrily, and never yet 
Did quiet bless the temples of the leader. 
If I am to stay, go you. The plaints of women 
111 suit the scene where men must act. 

[He is goinrj : Teiitsky returns. 

Ter. Remain here. From this window must 
we see it. 

Wal. [_to the Countess.] Sister, retire ! 

Coun. No — never. 

Wal 'Tis my wilL 

Ter. [leads the Countess aside, and drawing 
her attention to the Duchess.] Theresa ! 

Duch. Sister, come ! since he commands it. 

Scene VII. — Wallenstein, Tertsky. 

Wal. [stepping to the window.~\ What now, 

then ? 
Ter. There are strange movements among all 
the troops. 
And no one knows the cause. Mysteriously, 
With gloomy silentness, the several corps 
Marshal themselves, each under its own banners. 
Tiefenbach's corps makes threatening movements ; 

only 
The Pappenheimers still remain aloof 
In their own quarters, and let no one enter. 
Wal. Does Piccolomini appear among them ? 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSIEIN. 217 

Ter. We are seeking him : he is nowhere to be 

met with. 
Wal. What did the Aide-de-Camp dehver to 
you? 
. Ter. My regiments had dispatched him ; yet 

once more 
They swear fidelity to thee, and wait 
The shout for onset, all prepared, and eager. 
Wal. But whence arose this hirum in the 
camp ? 
It should have been kept secret from the army, 
Till fortune had decided for us at Prague. 

Ter. that thou hadst believed me ! Tester 
evening 
Did we conjure thee not to let that skulker, 
That fox, Octavio, pass the gates of Pilsen. 
Thou gav'st him thy own horses to flee from thee. 
Wal. The old tune still ! Now, once for all, 
no more 
Of this suspicion — -it is doting folly. 

Ter. Thou didst confide in Isolani too ; 
And lo ! he was the first that did desert thee. ^ 

Wal. It was but yesterday I rescued him 
From abject wretchedness. Let that go by. 
I never reckon 'd yet on gratitude. 
And wherein doth he wrong in going from me ? 
He follows still the god whom all his life 
He has worshii)ped at the gaming table. With 
My fortune, and my seeming destiny. 
He made the bond, and broke it not with me. 



218 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

I am but the ship in which his hopes were stowed, 
And with the which well-pleased and confident 
He traversed the open sea ; now he beholds it 
In imminent jeopardy among the coast-rocks, 
And hurries to preserve his wares. As light 
As the free bird from the hospitable twig 
Where it had nested, he flies off from me ; 
No human tie is snapped betwixt us two. 
Yea, he deserves to find himself deceived, 
Who seeks a heart in the unthinking man. 
Like shadows on a stream, the forms of life 
Impress their characters on the smooth forehead, 
Nought sinks into the bosom's silent depth : 
Quick sensibility of pain and pleasure 
Moves the light fluids lightly ; but no soul 
Warmeth the inner frame. 

Ter. Yet, would I rather 

Trust the smooth brow than that deep furrowed 
one. 



Scene VIII. — "Wallenstein, Tertsky, Illo, who 

enters agitated with rage, 

Illo. Treason and mutiny ! 
Ter. And what further now ? 

Illo. Tiefenbach's soldiers, when I gave the 
orders 
To'go off guard — Mutinous villains ! 

Ter. ' Weill 

Wal What followed? 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 219 

Illo. Thej refused obedience to them. 

Ter. Fire on them instantly! Give out the 
order. 

Wal. Gently ! what cause did they assign ? 

Illo. No other 

They said, had right to issue orders but 
Lieutenant- General Piccolomini. 

Wal. [m convulsion of agony.'] What ? How 
is that ? 

Illo. He takes that office on him by commission, 
Under sign-manual of the emperor. 

Ter. From th' Emperor — hear'st thou, Duke ? 

Illo. At his incitement 

The Generals made that stealthy flight — 

Ter. Duke ! hearest thou ? 

Illo. Caraffa too and Montecuculi, 
Are missing, with six other Generals, 
All whom he had induced to follow him. 
This plot he has long had in writing by him 
From the Emperor ; but 'twas finally concluded 
With all the detail of the operation 
Some days ago with the Envoy Questenberg. 
[Wallenstein sinks down into a chair and covers his face. 

Ter. hadst thou but believed me ! 

Scene D^. — To them enter the Countess. 

Coun. This suspense, 

This horrid fear — I can no longer bear it. 
For heaven's sake, tell me, what has taken place. 



220 THE DEATH OF AVALLENSTEIN. 

Illo. The regiments are all falling oflf from us. 

Ter, Octavio Piccolomiui is a traitor. 

Coun. O my foreboding ! 

[Hushes out of the room. 

Ter. Hadst thou but believed me! 

Now seest thou how the stai's have lied to thee. 

Wal. The stars lie not ; but we have here a 
work 
Wrought counter to the stars and destiny. 
The science is still honest : this false heart 
Forces a lie on the truth-telling heaven. 
On a divine law divination rests ; 
Where nature deviates from that law, and stum- 
bles 
Out of her limits, there all science errs. 
True, I did not suspect ! Were it superstition 
Never by such suspicion t' have affronted 
The human form, may that time ne'er come 
In which I shame me of the infirmity. 
The wildest savage drinks not with the victim, 
Into whose breast he means to plunge the sword. 
This, this, Octavio, was no hero's deed : 
'Twas not thy prudence that did conquer mine ; 
A bad heart triumphed o'er an honest one. 
No shield received the assassin stroke ; thou 

plungest 
Thy weapon on an unprotected breast — 
Against such weapons I am but a child. 



THE DEATH OP WALLENSTEIN. 221 



Scene X. — To these enter Butlek. 

Ter. [ineeting MmJ] O look there ! Butler ! 

Here we've still a friend ! 
Wal. [nieets him with outspread arms, and em^ 
braces him with warmth.'] Come to my heart, old 

comrade ! Not the sun 
Looks out upon us more revivingly 
In the earliest month of spring, 
Than a friend's countenance in such an hour. 
But. My General : I come — 
Wal. [leaning on Butler's shoiddersJ] Know'^st 
thou already ? 
That old man has betrayed me to the Emperor. 
What say'st thou ? Thirty years have we 

together 
Lived out, and held out, sharing joy and hardship. 
We have slept in one camp-bed, drunk from one 

glass, 
One morsel shared ! I leaned myself on him^ 
As now I lean me on thy faithful shoulder. 
And now in the very moment, when, all love, 
All confidence, my bosom beat to his. 
He sees and takes the advantage, stabs the knife 
Slowly into my heart. 

[He hides his face on Butler's breast. 

But. Forget the false one. 

What is your present purpose ? 

WaL W ell remembered ! 



222 THE DEATH OF WALLEXSTEIN. 

Courage mj soul ! I am still rich in friends, 
Still loved by Destiny ; for in the moment, 
That it unmasks the plotting hypocrite, 
It sends and proves to me one faithful heart. 
Of the hypocrite no more ! Think not, his loss 
Was that which struck the pang : no ! his 

treason 
Is that which strikes this pang ! No more of him ! 
Dear to my heart and honoured were they both. 
And the young man — yes — he did truly love me, 
lie — he — has not deceived me. But enough. 
Enough of this — Swift counsel now beseems us. 
The courier, whom Count Kinsky sent from 

Prague, 
I expect him every moment : and whatever 
He may bring with him, we must take good care 
To keep it from the mutineers. Quick, then ! 
Dispatch some messenger you can rely on 
To meet him, and conduct him to me. [Illo is going. 

But. [detaining Mm.'] My General, whom ex- 
pect you then ? 

Wal. The courier 

Who brings me word of the event at Prague. 

But. [hesitating. '\ Hem! 

Wal. And what now ? 

But. You do not know it ? 

Wal. Well? 

But. From what that larum in the camp arose ? 

Wal. From what ? 

But. That courier — 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 223 

WaL [^with eager expectation.'] Well ? 

But. Is already here. 

Ter. andlllo. \_at the same time. ] Already here ? 

Wal. My courier ? 

But. For some hours. 

Wal. And I not know it ? 

But. The sentinels detain him 

In custody, 

lllo. \_sta7npi7ig with his foot.] Damnation ! 

But. And his letter 

Was broken open, and is circulated 
Through the whole camp. 

Wal. You know what it contains ? 

But. Question me not. 

Ter. lUo ! alas for us. 

Wal. Hide nothing from me — I can hear the 
worst. 
Prague then is lost. It is. Confess it freely. 

But. Yes ! Prague is lost. And all the several 
regiments 
At Budweiss, Tabor, Braunau, Koniginngratz, 
At Briinn, and Znaim, have forsaken you, 
And ta'en the oaths of fealty anew 
To the Emperor. Yourself, with Kinsky, Tertsky, 
And lllo, have been sentenced. 

[Tertsky and Illo express alarm and fury. Wal- 
LENSTEIN remains firm and collected. 

Wal. 'Tis decided ! 

*Tis well ! I have received a sudden cure 
From all the pangs of doubt ; with steady stream 



224 THE DEATH OE AVALLENSTEIN. 

Once more my life-blood flows ! My soul's secure ! 
In the night only Friedland's stars can beam. 
Lingering irresolute, with fitful fears 
I drew the sword — 'twas with an inward strife, 
AVhile yet the choice was mine. The murderous 

knife 
Is lifted for my heart ! Doubt disappears ! 
I fight now for my head and for my life. 

[Exit Wallenstein ; iJie others fulloio him. 

Scene XI. — Countess Tertsky [enters from a side Room,) 

I can endure no longer. No ! [Looks around her. 

Where are they ! 
No one is here. They leave me all alone, 
Alone in this sore anguish of suspense. 
And I must wear the outward show of calmness 
Before my sister, and shut in within me 
The pangs and agonies of my crowded bosom. 
It is not to be borne. — If all should fail ; 
If — if he must go over to the Swedes, 
An empty-handed fugitive, and not 
As an ally, a covenanted equal, 
A proud commander with his army following ; 
If we must wander on from land to land. 
Like the Count Palatine, of fallen greatness 
An ignominious monument — But no ! 
That day I will not see ! And could himself 
Endure to sink so low, I would not bear 
To see him so low sunken. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 225 

Scene XII. — Countess, Duchess, Tiiekla. 

Theh. [endeavouring to hold hack the Duchess."} 
Dear mother, do stay here ! 

Duch. No ! Here is yet 

Some frightful mystery that is hidden from me. 
Why does ray sister shun me ? Don't I see her 
Full of suspense and anguish roam about 
From room to room ? — Art thou not full of terror ? 
And what import these silent nods and gestures 
Which stealthwise thou exchangest with her? 

Theh Nothing : 

Nothing dear mother ! 

Duch. [_to the Countess.] Sister, I will know. 

Coun. What boots it now to hide it from her ? 
Sooner 
Or later she must learn to hear and bear it. 
'Tis not the time now to indulge infirmity ; — 
Courage beseems us now, a heart collected, 
And exercise and previous discipline 
Of fortitude. One word and over with it ! 
Sister you are deluded. You believe 
The Duke has been deposed — The Duke is not 
Deposed — he is 

Thek. [going to the Countess.] What ? do you 
wish to kill her ? 

Coun. The Duke is 

Thek. {throwing her arms round her mother.'] 
stand firm ! stand firm, my mother ! 

Coun. Revolted is the Duke, he is preparing 

VOL III. 15 



226 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

To join the enemy, the army leave him, 
And all has failed. 

[During these words the Duchess totters, and falls in a 
faintiny fit into the arms of her daughter. While 
Tkekla is calling for help, the Curtain drops. 



ACT II. 

Scene I. — A spacious Room in the Duke of Fkied- 

land's Palace. 

Wal. [in armour.] Thou hast gained thy 
point, Octavio ! Once more am I 
Almost as friendless as at Regensburg. 
There I had nothing left me, but myself — 
But what one man can do, you have now expe- 
rience. 
The twigs have you hewed off, and here I stand 
A leafless trunk. But in the sap within 
Lives the creating power, and a new world 
May sprout forth from it. Once already have I 
Proved myself worth an army to you — I alone ! 
Before the Swedish strength your troops had 

melted ; 
Beside the Lech sank Tilly, your last hope ; 
Into Bavaria, like a winter torrent, 
Did that Gustavus pour, and at Vienna 
In his own palace did the Emperor tremble. 
Soldiers were scarce, for still the multitude 
Follow the luck ; all eyes were turned on me, 



THE DEATH OF WALLEN STEIN. 227 

Their helper in distress ; the Emperor's pride 
Bowed itself down before the man he had injured. 
'Twas I must rise, and with creative word 
Assemble forces in the desolate camps. 
I did it. Like a god of war, my name [and, lo ! 
Went through the world. The drum was beat — 
The plough, the workshop is forsaken, all 
Swarm to the old familiar long-loved banners ; 
And as the wood-choir rich in melody 
Assemble quick around the bird of wonder, 
When first his throat swells with his magic song, 
So did the warlike youth of Germany 
Crowd in around the image of my eagle. 
I feel myself the being that I was. 
It is the soul that builds itself a body, 
And Friedland's camp will not remain unfilled. 
Lead then your thousands out to meet me — true ! 
They are accustomed under me to conquer. 
But not against me. If the head and limbs 
Separate from each other, 'twill be soon 
Made manifest, in which the soul abode. 

[Illo and Tertsky enter. 
Courage, friends ! Courage ! We are still unvan- 

quished ; 
I feel my footing firm ; five regiments, Tertsky, 
Are still our own, and Butler's gallant troops ; 
And a host of sixteen thousand Swedes to-morrow. 
I was not stronger, when nine years ago 
I marched forth, with glad heart and high of hopCj 
To conquer Germany for the Emperor. 



228 THE DEATU OF WALLENSTEIN. 



Scene II. — Wallenstein, Illo, Teutsky. (To them 
enter Neumann, wJio leads Tertsky aside, and talks 
with him.) 

Ter. What do tliey want ? 

Wal, What now ? 

Ter. Ten Cuirassiers 

From Pappenheim request leave to address you 
In the name of the regiment. 

Wal. ^hastily to Neumann.] Let them enter. 

[Exit Neumann. 
This 
May end in something. Mark you. They are still 
Doubtful, and may be won. 



Scene III — Wallenstein, Tertsky, Illo, ten Cui- 
rassiers, (led by an Anspcssade,* march up and arrange 
themselves, after the word of command^ in one front before 
the Duke, and vuike their obeisance. He takes his hat 
off, and immediately covers himself again.) 

Ans. Halt ! Front ! Present ! 

Wal. [after he has run through them with his 
eye, to the Anspessade.] I know thee well. Thou 

art of Briigg in Fhindcrs : 
Thy name is Mercy. 

Ans. Henry Mercy. 

* Anspessade, in German, Gefreiter, a soldier inferior to a 
corporal, but above the sentinels. The Gorman name implies 
tliat he is exempt from mountmg guard. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 



900 



Wal. Thou wert cut off on the march, sur- 
rounded by the Hessians, and didst fight thy way 
with a hundred and eighty men through their 
thousand. 

A71S. 'Twas even so, General ! 

Wal. What reward hadst thou for this gallant 
exploit ? 

Ans. That which I asked for : the honour to 
serve in this corps. 

Wed. [turning to a second.~\ Thou wert among 
the volunteers that seized and made booty of tlie 
Swedish battery at Altenburg. 

2nd Gui. Yes, 'General ! 

Wal. I forget no one with whom I have ex- 
changed words. [^A pause."] Who sends you ? 

Ans. Your noble regiment, the Cuirassiers of 
Piccolomini. 

Wal. Why does not your colonel deliver in 
your request, according to the custom of service ? 

Ans. Because we would first know whom we 
serve. 

Wal. Begin your address. 

Ans. [giving the word of command.^ Shoulder 
your arms ! 

Wal. [turning to a third.] Thy name is Ris- 
beck, Cologne is thy birth-place. 

3rd Cai. Risbeck of Cologne. 

Wal. It was thou that broughtest in the Swe- 
dish colonel, Diebald, prisoner, in the camp at 
Nuremberg. 

3rd Gui. It was not I, General ! 



230 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Wal. Perfectly riglit ! It was thy elder broth- 
er: thou hadst a younger brother too: Where 
did he stay ? 

Srd Cui. He is stationed at Olmiitz with the 
Imperial army. 

Wal. \jo the Aiispessade.] Now then — begin. 

Ans. There came to hand a letter from the 
Emperor, 
Commanding us ■ 

Wal. ^interrupting him.'\ AVho chose you ? 

Ans. Every company 

Drew its own man by lot. 

Wal. Now ! to the business. 

Ans. There came to hand a letter from the 
Emperor, 
Commanding us collectively, from thee 
All duties of obedience to withdraw. 
Because thou wert an enemy and traitor. 

Wal. And what did you determine ? 

Ans. All our comrades 

At Braunau, Budweiss, Prague, and Olmiitz, have 
Obeyed already ; and the regiments here, 
Tiefenbach and Toscana, instantly 
Did follow their example. But — but we 
Do not believe that thou'rt an enemy 
And traitor to thy country, hold it merely 
For lie and trick, and a trumped up Spanish story ! 

[ With warmth. 
Thyself shalt tell us what thy purpose is. 
For we have found thee still sincere and true : 
No mouth shall intei-pose itself betwixt 



THE DEATH OP WALLENSTEIN. 231 

The gallant General and the gallant troops. 

Wal. Therein I recognize my Pappenheimers. 
Ajis. And this proposal makes thy regiment to 
thee : 
Is it thy purpose merely to preserve 
In thy own hands this military sceptre, 
Which so becomes thee, which the Emperor 
Made over to thee by a covenant ? 
Is it thy purpose merely to remain 
Supreme commander of the Austrian armies? — 
We will stand by thee. General ! and guarantee 
Thy honest rights against all opposition. 
And should it chance, that all the other regimenta 
Turn from thee, by ourselves will we stand forth 
Thy faithful soldiers, and, as is our duty, 
Far rather let ourselves be cut to pieces, 
Than suffer thee to falL But if it be 
As the Emperor's letter says, if it be true, 
That thou in traitorous wise wilt lead us over 
To the enemy, which God in heaven forbid ! 
Then we too will forsake thee, and obey 
That letter 

Wal. Hear me, children ! 

Alls. Yes, or no ! 

There needs no other answer. 

Wal. Yield attention. 

You're men of sense, examine for yourselves ; 
Ye think, and do not follow with the herd : 
And therefore have I always shown you honour 
Above all others, suffered you to reason ; 



232 THE DEATH OF "WALLENSTEIN. 

Have treated jou as free men, and my orders 
Were but the echoes of your prior sutfrage. — 

A71S. Most fair and noble has thy conduct been 
To us, my General ! With thy confidence 
Thou hast honoured us, and shown us grace and 

favour 
Beyond all other regiments ; and thou seest 
We follow not the common herd. We will 
Stand by thee faithfully. Speak but one word — ■ 
Thy word shall satisfy us, that it is not 
A treason which thou meditatest — that 
Thou meanest not to lead the army over 
To the enemy ; nor e'er betray thy country. 

Wal. Me, me are they betraying. The Emperor 
Hath sacrificed me to my enemies, 
And I must fall, unless my gallant troops 
Will rescue me. See ! I confide in you. 
And be your hearts my stronghold ! At this breast 
The aim is taken, at this hoary head. 
This is your Spanish gratitude, this is our 
Requital for that murderous fight at Llitzen ! 
For this we threw the naked breast against 
The halbert, made for this the frozen earth 
Our bed, and the hard stone our pillow ! never 

stream 
Too rapid for us, nor wood too impervious : 
With cheerful spirit we pursued that Mansfeld 
Through all the turns and windings of his flight ; 
Yea, our whole life was but one restless march ; 
And homeless, as tlie stirring wind, we travelled 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 233 

O'er the war-wasted earth. And now, even now 
That we have well nigh finished the hard toil, 
The unthankful, the curse-laden toil of weapons, 
"With faithful indefatigable arm 
Have rolled the heavy war-load up the hill, 
Behold ! this boy of the Emperor's bears away 
The honours of the peace, an easy prize ! 
He'll weave, forsooth, into his fiaxen locks 
The olive branch, the hard-earned ornament 
Of this gray head, grown gray beneath the helmet. 

Ans. That shall he not, while we can hinder it ! 
No one, but thou, who hast conducted it 
With fame, shall end this war, this frightful war. 
Thou led'st us out into the bloody field 
Of death, thou and no other shalt conduct us home. 
Rejoicing to the lovely plains of peace — 
Shalt share with us the fruits of the long toil— 

Wal. Wiiat? Think you then at length in late 
old age 
To enjoy the fruits of toil ? Believe it not. 
Never, no never, will you see the end 
Of the contest ! you and me, and all of us, 
This war will swallow up ! War, war, not peace, 
Is Austria's wish ; and therefore, because I 
Endeavoured after peace, therefore 1 fall. 
For what cares Austria, how long the war 
Wears out the armies and lays waste the world? 
She will but wax and grow amid the ruin. 
And still win new domains. 

[llie Cuirassiers express agitation by their (jesturea. 



234 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Ye're moved — I see 
A noble rage flash from your eyes, ye warriors ! 
Oh that my spirit might possess you now 
Daring as once it led you to the battle ! 
Ye would stand by me with your veteran arms, 
Protect me in my rights ; and this is noble ! 
But think not that you can accomplish it, 
Your scanty number ! to no purpose will you 
Have sacrificed you for your General. [Conjidentially 
No ! let us tread securely, seek for friends ; 
The Swedes have proffered us assistance, let us 
Wear for a while the appearance of good will, 
And use them for your profit, till we both 
Carry the fate of Europe in our hands, 
And from our camp to the glad jubilant world 
Lead Peace forth with the garland on her head ! 

Ans. 'Tis then but mere appearances which thou 
Dost put on with the Swede? Thou'lt not betray 
The Emperor ? Wilt not turn us into Swedes ? 
This is the only thing which we desire 
To learn from thee. 

Wal. What care I for the Swedes ? 

I hate them as I hate the pit of hell, 
And under Providence I trust right soon 
To chase them to their homes across their Baltic. 
My cares are only for the whole : I have 
A heart — it bleeds within me for the miseries 
And piteous groaning of my fellow Germans. 
Ye are but common men, but yet ye think 
With minds not common ; ye aj^pear to me 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 235 

Worthy before all others, that I whisper ye 
A little word or two in confidence ! 
See now ! already for full fifteen years 
The war-torch has continued burning, yet 
No rest, no pause of conflict. Swede and German, 
Papist and Lutheran ! neither will give way 
To the other, every hand's against the other. 
Each one is party, and no one a judge. 
Where shall this end ? Where's he that will 

unravel 
This tangle, ever tangling more and more ? 
It must be cut asunder. 
I feel that I am the man of destiny, 
A.nd trust, with your assistance, to accomplish it. 



Scene IV. — To these enter Butler. 

But. [passionately.'] General ! This is not right ! 

Wal. What is not right ? 

But. It must needs injure us with all honest men. 

Wal. But what ? 

But. It is an open proclamation 

Of insurrection. 

Wal. Well, well— but what is it ? 

But. Count Tertsky's regiments tear the Im- 
perial Eagle 
From off the banners, and instead of it, 
Have reared aloft thy arras. 

Ans. [abruptly to the Cuirassiers.] Right 
about ! March ! 



236 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Wal. Cursed be this counsel, and accursed 
who gave it ! 

[To the Curassiers, who are retiring. 

Halt, clilldren, halt! There's some mistake in 
this ; 

Hark ! — I will punish it severely. Stop ! 

They do not hear, [to Illo.] Go after them, 
assure them, 

And bring them back to me, cost what it may. 

[iLhO hurries out. 

This hurls us headlong. Butler! Butler! 

You are my evil genius, wherefore must you 

Announce it in their presence ? It was all 

In a fair way. They were half won, those mad- 
men 

With their improvident over-readiness : 

A cruel game is Fortune playing with me. 

The zeal of friends it is that razes me, 

And not the hate of enemies. 



Scene V. — To these enter the Duchess, who rushes into the 
Chamber. Tuekl.x and the Covstess follow her. 

Duck. O, Albrecht I 

What hast thou done ? 

Wal. And now comes this beside. 

Coun. Forgive me, brother! It was not in 
my power. 
They know alL 



THE DEATH OF AYALLENSTEIN. 237 

Duch. What hast thou done ? 

Coun. [to Tertsky.] Is there no hope ? Is 
all lost utterly ? 

Te» All lost. No hope. Prague in the Em- 
peror's hands, 
The '?Qldiery have ta'en their oaths anew. 

Goun. That lurking hypocrite, Octavio ! 
Count Max is off too? 

Ter. Where can he be ? He's 

Gone over to the Emperor with his father. 

[Thekla rushes out into the arms of her mother, hiding 
her face in her bosom. 

Duch. [enfolding her in her arms.'] Unhappy 

child ! and more unhappy mother ! 
Wal. [aside to Tertsky.] Quick ! Let a car- 
riage stand in readiness 
In the court behind the palace. Scherfenberg 
Be their attendant ; he is faithful to us ; 
To Egra he'll conduct them, and we follow. 

1 To Illo, tvho returns. 
Thou hast not brought them back ? 

Illo. Hear'st thou the uproar? 

The whole corps of the Pappenheimers is 
Drawn out : the younger Piccolomini, 
Their Colonel, they require ; for they affirm, 
That he is in the palace here, a prisoner ; 
And if thou dost not instantly deliver him. 
They will find means to free him with the sword. 

[All stand amazed, 
Ter. What shall we make of this ? 



238 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Wal. Said I not so ? 

my prophetic heart ! he is still here. 

He has not betrayed me — he could not betray me. 

1 never doubted of it. 

Coun. If he be 

Still here, then all goes well ; for I know what 

[Emhracinj Thekla. 
Will keep him here for ever. 

Ter. It can't be. 

His father has betrayed us, is gone over 
To the Emperor — the son could not have ventured 
To stay behind. 

Thek. \Jier eye fixed on the doorr^ There he is ! 



Scene VI. — To these enter Max Piccolomini. 

Max. Yes ! here he is ! I can endure no longer 
To creep on tiptoe round this house, and lurk 
In ambush for. a favourable moment. 
This loitering, this suspense exceeds my powers. 

[Advancing to Tuek^a, who has thrown herself into het 
mother''s arms. 
Turn not thine eyes away. O look upon me ! 
Confess it freely before all. Fear no one. 
Let who will hear that we both love each other. 
Wherefore continue to conceal it ? Secrecy 
Is for the happy — misery, hopeless miserj^, 
Needeth no veil ! Beneath a thousand suns 
It dares act openly. 

\He observes the Countess looking on Theki-a with 
expressions of triumph. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 239 

No, ladj! No! 
Expect not, hope it not. I am not come 
To stay : to bid farewell, farewell for ever, 
For this I come ! 'Tis over ! I must leave thee ! 
Thekhx, I must — must leave thee ! Yet thy hatred 
Let me not take witli me. I pray thee, grant me 
One look of sympathy, only one look. 
Say that thou dost not hate me. Say it to me, 
Thekla ! [ Grasps her hand. 

God ! I cannot leave this spot — I cannot — 
Cannot let go this hand. O tell me, Thekla ! 
That thou dost suffer with me, art convinced 
That I can not act otherwise. 

[Thekla. avoiding his look, points with her hand to her 
father. Max turns round to the Duke, whom he 
liad not till then perceived. 

Thou here ? It was not thou, whom here I sought. 

1 trusted never more to have beheld thee. 
My business is with her alone. Here will I 
Receive a full acquittal from this heart — 
For any other I am no more concerned. 

Wal Think'st thou, that fool-like, I shall let 
thee go, 
And act the mock-magnanimous with thee ? 
Thy father is become a villain to me ; 
I hold thee for his son, and nothing more : 
Nor to no purpose shalt thou have been given 
Into my power. Think not, that I will honour 
That ancient love, which so remorselessly 
He mangled. They are now past by, those hour3 



240 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Of friendship and forgiveness. Hate and ven- 
geance 
Succeed — 'tis now their turn — I too can throw 
All feelings of the man aside — can prove 
Myself as much a monster as thy father ! 

3Iax. [^calmly.'] Thou wilt proceed with me, as 
thou hast power. 
Thou know'st, I neither brave nor fear thy rage. 
What has detained me here, that too thou know'st. 
[Taking Tuekla bj the hand. 
See, Duke ! All — all would I have owed to thee, 
Would have received from thy paternal hand 
The lot of blessed spirits. This hast thou 
Laid waste for ever — that concerns not thee. 
Indifferent thou tramplest in the dust 
Their happiness, who most are thine. The god 
Whom thou dost serve, is no benignant deity. 
Like as the blind irreconcilable 
Fierce element, incapable of compact, 
Thy heart's wild impulse only dost thou follow.* 
Wal. Thou art describing thy own father's heart. 
The adder ! 0, the charms of hell o'erpoweredme. 
He dwelt within me, to my inmost soul 
Still to and fro he passed, suspected never ! 
On the wide ocean, in the starry heaven 
Did mine eyes seek the enemy, whom I 
Li my heart's heart had folded ! Had I been 

* I have here ventured to omit a considerable number of 
lines, which it is difficult to beheve that Schiller could have 
written. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 241 

To Ferdinand what Octavio was to me, 

War had I ne'er denounced against hhii. No, 

I never could have done it. The Emperor was 

My austere master only, not my friend. 

Tiiere was ah-eady war 'twixt him and me 

When he delivered the Commander's staff 

Into my hands ; for there's a natural 

Unceasing war 'twixt cunning and suspicion j 

Peace exists only betwixt confidence 

And faith. Who poisons confidence, he murders 

The future generations. 

3Iax. I will not 

Defend my father. Woe is me, I cannot! 
Hard deeds and luckless have ta'en place, one 

crime 
Drags after it the other in close link. 
But we are innocent : how have we fallen 
Into this circle of mishap and guilt ? 
To whom have we been faithless ? Wherefore must 
The evil deeds and guilt reciprocal 
Of our two fathers twine like serpents round us ? 
Why must our fathers' 
Unconquerable hate rend us asunder. 
Who love each other ? 

Wal. Max, remain with me. 

Go you not from me, Max ! Hark ! I will tell 

thee — 
How when at Prague, our winter quarters, thou 
Wert brought into my tent a tender boy, 
Not yet accustomed to the German winters ; 

VOL. III. 16 



24.2 THE DEATH OF AVALLENSTEIN. 

Thy hand was frozen to the heavy colours; 

Thou wouldst not let them go. — 

At that time did I take thee in my arms, 

And with my mantle did I cover thee ; 

I was thy nurse, no woman could have been 

A kinder to thee ; I was not ashamed 

To do for thee all little offices, 

However strange to me ; I tended thee 

Till life returned; and when thine eyes first 

opened, 
I had thee in my arms. Since then, when have I 
Altered my feelings t' wards thee ? Many thousands 
Have I made rich, presented them with lands ; 
Rewarded them with dignities and honours ; 
Thee have I loved: my heart, my self, I gave 
To thee ! They were all aliens : thou wert 
Our child and inmate.* Max! thou canst not 

leave me ; 
It cannot be ; I may not, wall not think 
That Max can leave me. 
Jfax, O my God i 

Wal I have 

Held and sustained thee from thy tottering child- 
hood. 
"What holy bond is there of natural love, 

* This is a poor and inadequate translation of the affection- 
ate simplicity of the original : — 

Sie alle waren Fremdlinge, du warst 

Das Kind des Hauses. 
Indeed the whole speech is in the best style of Massinger. 
si sic omnia ! 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTKIN^ 243 

What human tie, that does not knit thee to me ? 
I love thee, Max ! What did thy father for thee, 
Which I too have not done, to the height of duty ; 
Go hence, forsake me, serve thy Emperor ; 
He will reward thee with a pretty chain 
Of gold; with his ram's fleece will he reward 

thee; 
For that the friend, the father of thy youth, 
For that the holiest feeling of humanity. 
Was nothing worth to thee. 

Max. O God ! how can I 

Do otherwise ? Am I not forced to do it ? 
My oath — my duty — honour — 

Wal. How? Thy duty? 

Duty to whom ? Who art thou ? Max ! bethink 

thee 
What duties mayst thou have ? If I am acting 
A criminal part toward the Emperor, 
It is my crime, not thine. Dost thou belong 
To thine own self? Art thou thine own com- 
mander ? 
Stand'st thou, like me, a freeman in the world. 
That in thy actions thou shouldst plead free 

agency ? 
On me thou'rt planted, I am thy Emperor; 
To obey me, to belong to me, this is 
Thy honour, this a law of nature to thee ! 
And if the planet, on the which thou liv'st 
And hast thy dwelling, from its orbit starts, 
It is not in thy choice, whether or no 



244 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Tliou'lt follow it ; — ^unfelt it whirls thee onward 
Together with his ring and all his moons. 
With little guilt stepp'st thou into this contest, 
Thee will the world not censure, it will praise thee 
For that thou held'st thy friend more worth to thee 
Than names and influences more removed. 
For justice is the virtue of the ruler. 
Affection and fidelity the subject's. 
Not every one doth it beseem to question 
The far-off high Arcturus. Most securely 
Wilt thou pursue the nearest duty — let 
The pilot fix his eye upon the pole-star. 



Scene VII. — To these enter Neumann. 

Wal What now? 

Neu. The Pappenheimers are dismounted, 

And are advancing now on foot, determined 
With sword in hand to storm the house, and free 
The Count, their colonel. 

Wal. [to Tertsky.] Have the cannon planted. 
I will receive them with chain-shot. \Exit Tertsky. 
Prescribe to me with sword in hand ! Go, Neu- 
mann ! 
'Tis my command that they retreat this moment, 
And in their ranks in silence wait my pleasure. 
[Neumann exit. Illo steps to the window. 

Coun. Let him go, I entreat thee, let him go. 
Illo. [at the window.^ Hell and perdition ! 

WaL What is it ? 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 245 

Illo. They scale the council-house, the roof's 
uncovered. 
They level at this house the cannon — 

Max. Madmen ! 

Illo. They are making preparations now to fire 
on us. 
Duch. and Coun. Merciful Heaven ! 

3fax. [to Wallenstein.] Let me go to them ! 

Wal. Not a step ! 

Max. [^pointing to Tiiekla and the Duchess.] 

But their life ! Thine ! 

Wal. What tidings briug'st thou, Tertsky ? 



Scene VIII. — To these Tertsky (returning.) 

Ter. Message and greeting from our faithful 

regiments. 
Their ardour may no longer be curbed in. 
They intreat permission to commence th' attack, 
And if thou wouldst but give tiie word of onset, 
They could now charge the enemy in rear, 
Into the city wedge them, and with ease 
O'erpower them in the narrow streets. 

Illo. O come! 

Let not their ardour cool. The soldiery 
Of Butler's corps stand by us faithfully ; 
We are the greater number. Let us charge 

them. 
And finish here in Pilsen the revolt. 



246 THE DEATH OE WALLENSTEIN. 

Wal. What ? shall this town become a field ot 
slaughter, 
And brother-killing discord, fire-eyed. 
Be let loose throudi its streets to roam and rage ? 
Shall the decision be delivered over 
To deaf remorseless rage, that hears no leader ? 
Here is not room for battle, only for butchery. 
Well, let it be ! I have long thought of it, 
So let it burst then ! [Turns to Max. 

Well, how is it wilh thee? 
Wilt thou attempt a heat with me. Away ! 
Thou art free to go. Oppose thyself to me. 
Front against front, and lead them to the battle ; 
Thou'rt skilled in war, thou hast learned some- 
what under me, 
I need not be ashamed of my opponent, 
And never hadst thou fairer opportunity 
To pay me for thy schooling. 

Coun. Is it then. 

Can it have come to this? — What! Cousin! 

Cousin ! 
Have you the heart ? 

3Iax. Tlie regiments that are trusted to my care 
I have pledged my troth to bring away from Pilscn 
True to the Emperor, and this promise will I 
Make good, or perish. More than this no duty 
Requires of me. I will not fight against thee, 
Unless compelled ; for though an enemy. 
Thy head is holy to me still. 

[Two reports of cannon. Illo and TifUTSKY hiirri/ to 
the window. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 247 

Wal. What's that ? 

Ter, He falls. 

Wal Falls! Who? 

Illo. Tiefenbach's corps 

Discharged the ordnance. 

Wal. Upon whom ? 

Illo. On Neumann, 

Your messenger. 

Wal. [^starting up.^ Ha ! Death and hell ! I 
will — 

Ter. Expose thyself to their blind frenzy ? 

Duch. and Coun. No! 

For God's salve, no ! 

Illo. Not yet, my general ! 

Coun. 0, hold him ! hold him ! 

Wal. Leave me 

Max, Do it not ; 

Not yet ! This rash and bloody deed has thrown 

them 
Into a frenzy-fit — allow them time 

Wal. Away ! too long already have I loitered. 
They are emboldened to these outrages, 
Beholding not my face. They shall behold 

My countenance, shall hear my voice 

Are they not my troops ? Am I not their General, 
And their long-feared commander ! Let me see 
Whether indeed they do no longer know 
That countenance, which was their sun in battle ! 
From the balcony (mark !) I show myself 
To these rebellious forces, and at once 



248 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Revolt is mounded, and the higli-swoln current 
Shrinks back into the old bed of obedience. 

[Exit Wallenstein; Illo, Tertsky, and Butler 

follow. 



Scene IX. — Countess, Duchess, Max, and Tiiekla. 

Coun. \^to the Duchess.] Let them but see 
him — there is hope, still, sister. 

Duch, Hope ! I have none ! 

Max. [who during the last scene has been stand- 
ing at a distance, in a visible struggle of feelings, 
advances.'] This can I not endure. 
"With most determined soul did 1 come hither, 
My purposed action seemed unblamable 
To my own conscience — and I must stand here 
Like one abhorred, a hard inhuman being; 
Yea, loaded with the curse of all I love ! 
Must see all whom I love in this sore anguish. 
Whom I with one word can make ha])py — 0! 
My heart revolts within me, and two voices 
Make themselves audible within my bosom. 
My soul's benighted ; I no longer can 
Distinguish the right track. O well and truly 
Didst thou say, father, I relied too much 
On my own heart. My mind moves to and fro — ■ 
I know not what to do. 

Coun. What? you know not? 

Does not your own heart tell you ? Oh ! then I 
Will tell it you. Your father is a traitor, 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 249 

A frightful traitor to us — lie has plotted 
Against our General's life, has plunged us all 
In misery — and you're his son ! 'Tis yours 
To make the amends — Make you the son's fide- 
lity 
Outweigh the father's treason, that the name 
Of Piccolomini be not a proverb 
Of infamy, a common form of cursing 
To the posterity of "Wallenstein. 

3fax. Where is that voice of truth which I dare 
follow ? 
It speaks no longer in my heart. We all 
But utter what our passionate wishes dictate : 
O that an angel would descend from Heaven, 
And scoop for me the right, the uncorrupted. 
With a pure hand from the pure fount of Light. 

[His eyes glance on Thekla. 
What other angel seek I ? To this heart, 
To this unerring heart, will I submit it, 
Will ask thy love, which has the power to bless 
The happy man alone, averted ever 
From the disquieted and guilty — amst thou 
Still love me if I stay ? Say that thou canst, 

And I am the Duke's 

Coun. Think, niece 



Max. Think nothing, Thekla ! 

Speak what i\iou feelest. 

Coun. Think upon your father. 

Max. I did not question thee as Friedland's 
dauiihter. 



250 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Thee, the beloved and unerring god 

Within thy heart, I question. What's at stake ? 

Not whether diadem of royalty 

Be to be won or not — that mightst thou think on. 

Thy friend, and his soul's quiet, are at stake ; 

The fortune of a thousand gallant men, 

Who will all follow me ; shall I forswear 

My oath and duty to the Emperor? 

Say, shall I send into Octavio's camp 

The parricidal ball ? For when the ball 

Has left its cannon, and is on its flight, 

It is no longer a dead instrument ! 

It lives, a spirit passes into it, 

The avenging furies seize possession of it, 

And with sure malice guide it the worst way. 

Thek. O! Max. 

31ax. [interrupting herJ] Nay, not precipitately 
either, Thekla. 
I understand thee. To thy noble heart. 
The hardest duty might appear the highest. 
The human, not the great part, would I act. 
Ev'n from my childhood to this present hour, 
Think what the Duke has done for me, how 

loved me, 
And think too, how my father has repaid him. 
O likewise the free lovely impulses 
Of hospitality, the pious friend's 
Faithful attachment, these too are a holy 
Religion to the heart ; and heavily 
The shudderings of nature do avenge 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 25] 

Themselves on the barbarian that insults them. 
Lay all upon the balance, all — then speak, 
And let thy heart decide it. 

Theh. O, thy own 

Hath long ago decided. Follow thou 
Thy heart's first feeling 

Coun. Oh ! ill-fated woman ! 

Tliek. Is it possible that that can be the right, 
The which thy tender heart did not at first 
Detect and seize with instant impulse? Go, 
Fulfil thy duty ! I should ever love thee. 
Whate'er thou hadst chosen, thou wouldst still have 

acted 
Nobly and worthy of thee — but repentance 
Shall ne'er disturb thy soul's fair peace. 

Max. Then I 

Must leave thee, must part from thee ! 

Theh Being faithful 

To thine own self, thou art faithful too to me : 
If our fates part, our hearts remain united. 
A bloody hatred will divide for ever 
The houses Piccolomini and Friedhmd ; 
But we belong not to our houses — Go ! 
Quick ! quick ! and separate thy righteous 

cause 
From our unholy and unblessed one ! 
The curse of Heaven lies upon our head : 
'Tis dedicate to ruin. Even me 
My father's guilt drags with it to perdition. 
Mourn not for me ; 



252 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

My destiny will quickly be decided. 

[Max clasps her in his arms in extreme emotion. Tlierc 
is heard from behind the Scene a loud, wild, long 
continued cry, Vivat Ferdinandus ! accompanied 
hy warlike instruments. Max and Thekla remain 
without motion in each other^s embraces. 



Scene X. — To these enter Tertskt. 

Coun. \_meeting him.] What meant that cry ? 
What was it ? 

Ter. All is lost ! [tenance ? 

Coun. What! they regarded not his coun- 

Ter. 'Twas all in vain. 

Duch, They shouted Vivat ! 

Ter. To the Emperor. 

Coun. The traitors ! 

Ter. Nay ! he was not once permitted 

Even to address them. Soon as he began, 
With deafening noise of warlike instruments 
They drowned his words. But here he comes. 

Scene XI. — To these enter Wallenstein, accompanied 
by Illo and Butler. 

Wal. [as he enters."] Tertsky ! 

Ter. My General ? 

Wal. Let our regiments hold themselves 

In readiness to march ; for we shall leave 
Pilsen <jre evening. L^'-*«« Tertsky. 

Butler! 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 253 

But. Yes, my General. 

Wal. The Governor at Egra is your friend 
And countryman. Write to him instantly 
By a post-courier. He must be advised, 
That we are with him early on the morrow. 
You follow us yourself, your regiment with you. 

But. It shall be done, my General ! 

Wal. \_steps between Max and Thekla, who 
have remained in each other's arms daring this 
time.'] Part ! 

3Iax. O God ! 

[Cuirassiers enter with drawn swords, and assemble in 
the back-ground. At the same time tlif.re are heard 
from below some spirited passages out of the Pappen- 
lieim March, which seem to address Max. 

Wal. [_to the Cuirassiers.] Here he is, he is at 

liberty : I keep him 

No longer. 

[He turns away, and stands so that Max cannot pass by 
him nor approach the Fkincess. 

3fax. Thou know'st that I have not yet learnt 

to live 

"Without thee ! I go forth into a desert. 

Leaving my all behind me. do not turn 

Thine eyes away from me ! O once more show me 

Thy ever dear and honoured countenance. 

[Max attempts to take his hand, but is repelled ; he 
turns to the Countess. 

Is there no eye that has a look of pity for me ? 
[The Countess turns away from him ; lie turns to the 
Duchess. 



254 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Mj mother ! 

Duch. Go where duty calls you. Haply 
The time may come, when you may prove to us 
A true friend, a good angel at the throne 
Of the Emperor. 

Max. You give me hope ; you would not 

Suffer me wholly to desparr. No ! no ! 
Mine is a certain misery — thanks to Heaven 
That offers me a means of ending it. 

[The military music begins again. The Stage Jills more 
and more with armed men. Max sees Butler, 
and addresses him. 
And you here. Colonel Butler — and will you 
Not follow me ? Well, then ! remain more faithful 
To your new lord, than you have proved yourself 
To the Emperor. Come, Butler ! promise me, 
Give me your hand upon it, that you'll be 
The guardian of his life, its shield, its watchman. 
He is attainted, and his princely head 
Fair booty for each slave that trades in murder. 
Now he doth need the faithful eye of friendship, 
And those whom here I see — 

[Casting suspicious looks on Illo and Butlek, 
Illo. Go — seek for traitors 

In Gallas', in your father's quarters. Here 
Is only one. Away ! away ! and free us 
From his detested sight ! Away ! 

[Max attempts once more to approach Twe.'kIjA.. Wal- 
LEXSTEiN prevents him. Max stands irresolute^ 
and in apparent anguish. In the mean time the 
stage Jills more and more ; and the horns sound from 
below louder^ and each time after a sJiorter interval. 



THE DEATH OP WALLENSTEIN. 255 

3Iax. Blow, blow ! O were it bat the Swedish 
trumpets, 
And all the naked swords which I see here. 
Were plunged into my breast ! What purpose you ? 
You come to tear me from this place ! Beware, 
Ye drive me not to desperation. — Do it not ! 
Ye may repent it ! 

[The stage is entirely filled with armed men. 
Yet more ! weight upon weight to drag me down ! 
Think what ye're doing. It is not well done 
To choose a man despairing for your leader ; 
You tear me from my happiness. Well, then, 
I dedicate your souls to vengeance. Mark ! 
For your own ruin you have chosen me : 
Who goes with me must be prepared to perish. 
[He turns to the hack-ground ; there ensues a sudden and 
violent movement among the Cuirassiers ; they sur- 
round him, and carry him off in wild tumult. Wal- 
LENSTEIN remains immovable. Thekla sinks 
into her mother^s arms. The curtain falls. The 
music becomes loud and overpowering, and passes 
into a complete war march — the orchestra joins it—-' 
and continues during the interval between the second 
and third Act. 



256 THE DEATH OP WALLENSTEIN. 



ACT III. 

Scene I. — The Burgomaster'* s House at Egra. — Butleb. 

But. \^just arrived.'] Here then lie is, by his 
destiny conducted. 
Here, Friedland ! and no farther ! From Bohemia 
Thy meteor rose, traversed the sky awhile, 
And here upon the borders of Bohemia 
Must sink. 

Thou hast forsworn the ancient colours. 
Blind man ! yet trustest to thy ancient fortunes. 
Profaner of the altar and the hearth. 
Against thy Emperor and fellow-citizens 
Thou mean'st to wage the war. Friedland, 

beware— 
The evil spirit of revenge impels thee — 
Beware thou, that revenge destroy thee not I 

Scene II. — Butler and Gordon. 

Gov. Is it you ? 
How my heart sinks ! The Duke a fugitive traitor! 
His princely head attainted ! my God ! 

But. You have received the letter which I sent 
you 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 257 

Bj a post-courier ? — 

Gor. Yes ! and in obedience to it 

Opened tlie strong-hold to him without scruple. 
For an imperial letter orders me 
To follow your commands implicitly. 
But yet forgive me ; when even now I saw 
The Duke himself, my scruples recommenced. 
For truly, not like an attainted man, 
Into this town did Friedland make his entrance ; 
His wonted majesty beamed from his brow, 
And calm, as in the days when all was right, 
Did he receive from me the accounts of office ; 
Tis said, that fallen pride learns condescension : 
But sparing and with dignity the Duke 
Weighed every syllable of approbation, 
As masters praise a servant who has done 
His duty, and no more. 

But, 'Tis all precisely 

As 1 related in my letter. Friedland 
Has sold the army to the enemy. 
And pledged himself to give up Prague and Egra. 
On this report the regiments all forsook him, 
The five excepted that belonged to Tertsky, 
And which have followed him as thou hast seen. 
The sentence of attainder is passed on him, 
And every loyal subject is required 
To give him in to justice, dead or living. 

Gor. A traitor to the Emperor — such a noble ! 
Of such high talents ! What is human greatness ! 
I often said, this can't end happily. 

VOL. III. 17 



258 THE DEATH OF WALLEXSTEIX. 

His might, his greatness, and this obscure power, 

Are but a covered pit-fall. The human being 

May not be trusted to self-government. 

The clear and written law, the deep trod footmarks 

Of ancient custom, are all necessary 

To keep him in the road of faith and duty. 

The authority intrusted to this man 

Was unexampled and unnatural ; 

It placed him on a level with his Emperor, 

Till the proud soul unlearned submission. Woe 

is me ; 
I mourn for him ! for where he fell, I deem 
Might none stand firm. Alas ! dear General, 
We in our lucky mediocrity 
Have ne'er experienced, cannot calculate, 
What dangerous Welshes such a height may breed 
In the heart of such a man. 

But Spare your laments 

Till he need sympathy ; for at this present 
He is still mighty, and still formidable. 
The Swedes advance to Egra by forced marches, 
And quickly will the junction be accomplished. 
This must not be ! The Duke must never leave 
This strong hold on free footing ; for I have 
Pledged life and honour here to hold him prisoner, 
And your assistance 'tis on which I calculate. 

Gor. O that I had not lived to see this day ! 
From his hand I received this dignity, 
He did himself intrust this strong-hold to me. 
Which I am now required to make his dungeon. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 259 

We subalterns have no will of our own : 
The free, the mighty man alone may listen 
To the fair impulse of his human nature. 
Ah ! we are but the poor tools of the law, 
Obedience the sole virtue we dare aim at ! 

But. Nay, let it not afflict you, that your power 
Is circumscribed. Much liberty, much error ! 
The narrow path of duty is securest. 

Go7\ And all then have deserted him, you say ? 
He has built up the luck of many thousands ; 
For kingly was his spirit : his full hand 
Was ever open ! Many a one from dust 

f With a side glance on Butlek. 
Hath he selected, from the very dust 
Hath raised him into dignity and honour. 
And yet no friend, not one friend hath he pur- 
chased. 
Whose heart beats true to him in the evil hour. 

But. Here's one, I see. 

Gor. I have enjoyed from him 

No grace or favour. I could almost doubt. 
If ever in his greatness he once thought on 
An old friend of his youth. For still my office 
Kept me at distance from him ; and when first 
He to this citadel appointed me, 
He was sincere and serious in his duty. 
I do not then abuse his confidence, 
If I preserve my fealty in that 
Which to my fealty was first delivered. 

But. Say, then, will you fulfil the attainder on 
him? 



260 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Got, [^ pauses, reflecting, then as in deep dejeC' 
tion.'] If it be so — if all be as you say — • 
If he've betrayed the Emperor, his master, 
Have sold the troops, have purposed to deliver 
The strong-holds of the country to the enemy — • 
Yea, truly ! — there is no redemption for him ! 
Yet it is hard, that me the lot should destine 
To be the instrument of his perdition ; 
For we were pages at the court of Bergau 
At the same period ; but I was the senior. 

But. I have heard so 

Gor. 'Tis full thirty years since then 

A youth who scarce had seen his twentieth year 
Was Wallenstein, when he and I were friends : 
Yet even then he had a daring soul : 
His frame of mind was serious and severe 
Beyond his years : his dreams were of great 

objects. 
He walked amidst us of a silent spirit. 
Communing with himself: yet I have known him 
Transported on a sudden into utterance 
Of strange conceptions ; kindling into splendour 
His soul revealed itself, and he spake so 
That we looked round perplexed upon each other, 
Not knowing whether it were craziness, 
Or whether it were a god that spoke in him. 

But. But was it where he fell two story high 
From a window-ledge, on which he had fallen 

asleep ; 
And rose up free from injury ? From this day 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 261 

(It is reported) he betrayed clear marks 
Of a distempered fancy. 

Gor, He became 

Doubtless more self-enwrapt and melancholy ; 
lie made himself a Catholic. Marvellously 
His marvellous preservation had transformed him. 
Thenceforth he held himself for an exempted 
And privileged being, and, as if he were 
Incapable of dizziness or fall, 
He ran along the unsteady rope of life. 
But now our destinies drove us asunder : 
He paced with rapid step the way of greatness, 
"Was Count, and Prince, Duke-regent, and Dic- 
tator. 
And now is all, all this too little for him ; 
He stretches forth his hands for a king's crown, 
And plunges in unfathomable ruin. 

But. Ko more, he comes. 



Scene III. — To these enter Wallenstein, in conversation 
with the Burgomaster or Egra. 

Wal. You were at one time a free town. I see, 
Ye bear the half eagle in your city arms. 
Why the half eagle only ? 

Burg. We were free. 

But for these last two hundred years has Egra 
Remained in pledge to the Bohemian crown ; 
Therefore we bear the half eagle, the other half 
Being cancelled till the empire ransom us, 



262 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

If ever that should be. 

Wal. Ye merit freedom. 

OdIj be firm and dauntless. Lend jour ears 
To no designing whispering court-minions. 
What may your imposts be ? 

£u7'g. So heavy that 

We totter under them. The garrison 
Lives at our costs. 

Wal I will relieve you. Tell me, 

There are some Protestants among you still ? 

[The BuEGOM ASTER hesltaies. 
Yes, yes ; I know it. Many lie concealed 
Within these walls — Confess now — you yourself — 
[Fixes his eye on him. The Burgomaster alarmed. 
Be not alarmed. I hate the Jesuits. 
Could my will have determined it, they had 
Been long ago expelled the empire. Trust me — 
Mass-book or Bible — 'tis all one to me. 
Of that the world has had sufficient proof. 
I built a church for the reformed in Glogau 
At my own instance, ilark'e. Burgomaster ! 
What is your name ? 

Burg. Pachhiilbel, may it please you. 

Wal. Hark'e! 

But let it go no further, w^hat I now 
Disclose to you in confidence* 

[Laying his hand on the Burgomaster's shoulder, with 
a certain solemnity. 

The times 
Draw near to the fulfilment, Burgomaster ! 
The high will fall, the low will be exalted. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 263 

Hark'e ! But keep it to yourself ! The end 
Approaches of the Spanish double monarchy — 
A new arrangement is at hand. You saw 
The three moons that appeared at once in the 
Heaven. 
Burg. With wonder and affright ! 
Wal. Whereof did two 

Strangely transform themselves to bloody daggers, 
And only one, the middle moon, remained 
Steady and clear. 

Burg. We applied it to the Turks. 

Wal. The Turks ! That all ?— I tell you, that 
two empires 
Will set in blood, in the East and in the West, 
And Luth'ranism alone remain. 

[Observing Gordon and Butleb. 
I'faith, 
'Twas a smart cannonading that we heard 
This evening, as we journeyed hitherward ; 
'Twas on our left hand. Did you hear it here ? 
Gor. Distinctly. The wind brought it from 

the South. 
But. It seemed to come from Weiden or from 

Neustadt. 
Wal. 'Tis likely. That's the route the Swedes 
are taking. 
How strong is the garrison ? 

Gor. Not quite two hundred 

Competent men, the rest are invalids. [Jochim ? 

Wal. Good ! And how many in the vale of 



264 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTKIN. 

Gor. Two hundred arquebussiers liave I sent 
thither 
To fortify the posts against the Swedes. 

Wal. Good ! I commend your foresight. At 
the works too 
You have done somewhat ? 

Gor. Two additional batteries 

I caused to be run up. They were needed. 
The Rhinegrave presses hard upon us, General ! 
Wal. You have been watchful in your Em- 
peror's service. 
I am content with you, Lieutenant-Colonel. 

I To Butler. 
Release the outposts in the vale of Jochim 
With all the stations in the enemy's route. 

[7b Gordon. 
Governor, in your faithful hands I leave 
My wife, my daughter, and my sister. I 
Shall make no stay here, and wait but the arrival 
Of letters, to take leave of you, together 
With all the regiments. 

Scene IV. — To these enter Count Tertsky. 

Ter. Joy, General, joy ! I bring you welcome 

tidings. 
Wal. And what may they be ? 
Ter. There has been an engagement 

At Neustadt; the Swedes gained the victory. 
Wal. From whence did you receive the intel- 

lijience ! 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 2G5 

Ter. A countryman from Tirschenreit con- 
veyed it. 
Soon after sunrise did the fight begin ! 
A troop of the Imperialists from Tachau 
Had forced tlieir way into the Swedish camp ; 
The cannonade continued full two hours ; 
There were left dead upon the field a thousand 
Imperialists, together with their Colonel; 
Further than this he did not know. 

Wal. How came 

Imperial troops at Neustadt? Altringer, 
But yesterday, stood sixty miles from there. 
Count Gallas' force collects at Frauenberg, 
And have not the full complement. Is it possible, 
That Suys perchance had ventured so far onward ? 
It cannot be. 

Ter. We shall soon know the w hole, 

For here comes Illo, full of haste, and joyous. 



Scene V. — To these enter Illo. 

lUo. \to Wallenstein.] a courier, Duke! 

he wishes to speak with thee. 
Ter. [eagerly.'] Does he bring confirmation of 

the victory? 
Wal. [at the same time.'] What does he bring ? 

Whence comes he ? 
Illo. From the Rhinegrave. 

And what he brings I can announce to you 



266 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Beforehand. Seven leagues distant are the 

Swedes ; 
At Neustadt did Max Piccolomini 
Throw himself on them with the cavalry ; 
A murderous fight took place ! o'erpowered by 

numbers 
The Pappenheimers all, with Max their leader, 

[Wallenstein shudders and turns pale. 
Were left dead on the field. 

JVal. \_after a pause, in a low voice.~\ Where is 

the messenger ? Conduct me to him. 

[Wallenstein is going, when Lady Neubkunn 
rushes into the room. Some Servants Jbllow her and 
run across the Stage. 

Neu. Help ! help ! 

lllo and Tertsliy. \at the same time.'] What now ? 
Neu. The Princess ! 

Wal. and Ter. Does she know it ? 

Neu. [at the same thne with them.] She is dying ! 
[Hurries off the Stage, when Wallenstein 
and Tertsky follou) her. 



Scene VI. — Butler and Gordon. 

Gor. What's this? 

But. She has lost the man she loved — - 

foung Piccolomini, who fell in the battle. 
Gor. Unfortunate lady ! 
But. You have heard v/hat Illo 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 267 

Reporteth, that the Swedes are conquerors, 
And marching hitherward. 

Gor. Too well I heard it. 

But. They are twelve regiments strong, and 
there are five 
Close by us to protect the Duke. We have 
Only my single regiment ; and the garrison 
Is not two hundred strong. 

Gor. 'Tis even so. 

But. It is not possible with such small force 
To hold in custody a man like him. 

Gor. I grant it. 

But. Soon the numbers would disarm us, 

And liberate him. 

Gor. It were to be feared. 

But. \_after a 'pause.~\ Know, I am warranty for 
the event ; 
With my head have I pledged myself for his, 
Must make my word good, cost it what it will, 
And if alive we cannot hold him prisoner. 
Why — death makes all things certain ! 

Gor. Butler! what? 

Do I understand you ? Gracious God ! Tou 
could — 

But. He must not live. 

Gor. And you can do the deed ! 

But. Either you or I. This morning was his 
last. 

Gor. You would assassinate him ! — 

But. 'Tis my purpose. 



268 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN 

Gor. Who leans with his whole confidence 
upon you ! 

But. Such is his evil destiny ! 

Gov. Your General ! 

The sacred person of your General ! 

But. My General he has been. 

Gov. That 'tis only 

A " has been " washes out no villany. 
And without judgment passed ? 

But. The execution 

Is here instead of judgment. 

Gor. This were murder, 

Not justice. The most guilty should be heard. 

But. His guilt is clear, the Emperor has passed 
judgment, 
And we but execute his will. 

Gor. We should not 

Hurry to realize a bloody sentence. 
A word may be recalled, a life can never be. 

But. De>patch in service pleases sovereigns. 

Gor. No honest man 's ambitious to press for- 
ward 
To the hangman's service. 

But. And no brave man loses 

His colour at a daring enterprise. 

Gor. A brave man hazards life, but not his 
conscience. 

But. What then? Shall he go forth anew to 
kindle 
The inextinofuishable flame of war ? 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 269 

Gor. Seize him, and hold him prisoner — do not 

kill him! 
But, Had not the Emperoi^'s army been de- 
feated, 
I might have done so. — But 'tis now past by. 
Gor. O, wherefore opened I the stronghold to 

him ? 
But. His destiny and not the place destroys 

him. 
Gor. Upon these ramparts, as beseemed a sol- 
dier, 
I had fallen, defending the Emperor's citadel I 
But. Yes ! and a thousand gallant men have 

perished. 
Gor. Doing their duty — that adorns the man ! 
But murder's a black deed, and nature curses it. 
But. [brings out a paper.'] Here is the mani- 
festo which commands us 
To gain possession of his person. See — 
It is addressed to you as well as me. 
Are you content to take the consequences. 
If through our fault he escape to the enemy ? 
Gor. I ? — Gracious God ! 
But. Take it on yourself. 

Let come of it what may, on you I lay it. 
Gor. O God in heaven ! 

But. Can you advise aught else 

Wherewith to execute the Emperor's purpose ? 
Say if you can. For I desire his fall. 
Not his destruction. 



270 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Got. Merciful heaven ! what must be 

I see as clear as you. Yet still the heart 
Within my bosom beats with other feelings ! 

But. Mine is of harder stuff! Necessity 
In her rough school hath steeled me. And this Illo 
And Tertsky likewise, they must not survive him. 

Gor. I feel no pang for these. Their own bad 
hearts 
Impelled them, not the influence of the stars. 
'Twas they who strewed the seeds of evil passions 
In his calm breast, and with officious villany 
"Watered and nursed the poisonous plants. May 

they 
Receive their earnests to the uttermost mite ! 

But, And their death shall precede his ! 
We meant to have taken them alive this evening 
Amid the merry-making of a feast, 
And kept them prisoners in the citadels. 
But this makes shorter work. I go this instant 
To give the necessary orders. 



Scene VII. — To these enter Illo and Tektskt. 

Ter. Our luck is on the turn. To-morrow come 
The Swedes — twelve thousand gallant warriors, 

Illo! 
Then straightways for Vienna. Cheerily, friend ! 
What ! meet such news with such a moody face ? 

Illo. It lies with us at present to prescribe 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 271 

Laws, and take vengeance on those worthless trai- 
tors, 
Those skulking cowards that deserted us ; 
One has already done his bitter penance, 
The Piccolomini: be his the fate 
Of all who wish us evil! This flies sure 
To the old man's heart ; he has his whole life long 
Fretted and toiled to raise his ancient house 
From a Count's title to the name of Prince ; 
And now must seek a grave for his only son. 

But. 'Twas pity though ! A youth of such heroic 
And gentle temp'rament ! The Duke himself, 
'Twas easily seen, how near it went to his heart, 

Illo. Hark'e, old friend ! That is the very point 
That never pleased me in our General — 
He ever gave the preference to the Italians. 
Yea, at this very moment, by my soul 
He'd gladly see us all dead ten times over. 
Could he thereby recall his friend to life. 

Ter. Hush, hush ! Let the dead rest ! This 
evening's business 
Is, who can fairly drink the other down — 
Your regiment Illo ! gives the entertainment. 
Come ! we will keep a merry carnival — 
The night for once be day, and mid full glasses 
"Will we expect the Swedish Avantgarde. 

Illo. Yes, let us be of good cheer for to-day, 
For there's hot work before us, friends. This sword 
Shall have no rest, till it be bathed to the hilt 
In Austrian blood. 



272 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Gor. Shame, shame ! what talk is this, 

My Lord Field Marshal ? wherefore foam you so 
Against your Emperor ? 

But. Hope not too much 

From this tirst victory. Bethink you, sirs ! 
How rapidly the wheel of Fortune turns ; 
The Emperor still is formidably strong. 

Illo. The Emperor has soldiers, no commander, 
For this King Ferdinand of Hungary 
Is but a tyro. Gallas ? He's no luck, 
And was of old the ruiner of armies. 
And then this viper, this Octavio, 
Is excellent at stabbing in the back, 
But ne'er meets Friedland in the open field. 

Ter. Trust me, my friends, it cannot but 
succeed ; 
Fortune, we know, can ne'er forsake the Duke ! 
And only under Wallenstein can Austria 
Be conqueror. 

Illo. The Duke will soon assemble 

A mighty army ; all come crowding, streaming 
To banners dedicate by destiny 
To fame and prosperous fortune. I behold 
Old times come back again, he will become 
Once more the mighty Lord which he has been. 
How will the fools, who've now deserted him, 
Look then ? I can't but laugh to think of them 
For lands will he present to all his friends. 
And like a King and Emperor reward 
True services ; but we've the nearest claims. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 273 

You will not be forgotten, Governor ! [To Gordon. 
He'll take you from this nest, and bid you shine 
In higher station : your fidelity 
Well merits it. 

Gor. I am content already, 

And wish to climb no higher; where great height is, 
The fall must needs be great. " Great height, 
•great depth." 
Illo. Here you have no more business ; for to- 
morrow 
The Swedes will take possession of the citadel. 
Come, Tertsky, it is supper-time. What think 

}-ou ? 
Say, shall we have the state* illuminated 
In honour of the Swede ? And who refuses 
To do it is a Spaniard and a traitor. 

Ter. Nay ! Nay ! not that, it will not please 

the Duke— 
Illo. What ! we are masters here ; no soul shall 
dare 
Avow himself imperial where we've rule. 
Gordon ! Good night, and for the last time, 

take 
A fair leave of the place. Send out patrols 
To make secure, the watch-word may be altered 
At the stroke of ten ; deliver in the keys 
To the Duke himself, and then you're quit for 

ever 
Your wardship of the gates, for on to-morrow 
The Swedes will take possession of the citadel. 
[* Coleridge has here mistaken Stadt {city) for Staat {state).] 
VOL. III. 18 



274 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Ter. \_as he is going, to Butler.] You come, 

tlioiigb, to the castle ? 
But. At the right time. 

[Exeunt Tertskt and Illo. 



Scene VIII. — Gordon and Butler. 

'Gar. \Ioohing after theni.'] Unhappy men! 
How free from all foreboding ! 
They rush into the outspread net of murder 
In the blind drunkenness of victory ; 
I have no pity for their fate. This Illo, 
This overflowing and fool-hardy villain, 
That would fain bathe himself in his Emperor's 
blood, 

!But. Do as he ordered you. Send round 
patrols, 
Take measures for the citadel's security ; 
When they are within I close the castle gate, 
That nothing may transpire. 

Gor. [with earnest anxiety.'] Oh ! haste not so ! 
Nay, stop ; first tell me 

But. You have heard already. 

To-morrow to the Swedes belongs. This night 
Alone is ours. They make good expedition. 
But we will make still greater. Fare you well. 

Gor. Ah ! your looks tell me nothing good. 
Nay, Butler, 
I pray you, promise me ! 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 275 

But. The sun has set ; 

A fateiul evening doth descend upon us, 
And brings on their long night ! Their e^il stars 
Dehver them unarmed into our hands, 
And from their drunken dream of golden fortunes 
The dagger at their heart shall rouse them. Well, 
The Duke was ever a great calculator ; 
His fellow-men were figures on his chess-board, 
To move and station as his game required. 
Other men's honour, dignity, good name, [of it : 
Did he shift like pawns, and made no conscience 
Still calculating, calculating still ; 
And yet at last his calculation proves 
Erroneous ; the whole game is lost ; and lo ! 
His own life will be found among the forfeits. 

Gor. O think not of his errors now ; remember 
His greatness, his munificence, think on all 
The lovely features of his character, 
On all the noble exploits of his life, 
And let them, like an angel's arm, unseen 
Arrest the lifted sword. 

Bat. It is too late. 

I suffer not myself to feel compassion. 
Dark thoughts and bloody are my duty now : 

[ Grasping Gokdox's hand. 
Gordon ! 'Tis not my hatred (I pretend not 
To love the Duke, and have no cause to love him) 
Yet 'tis not now my hatred that impels me 
To be his murderer. 'Tis his evil fate. 
Hostile concurrences of many events 



276 THE DEATH OF A7ALLENSTEIN. 

Control and subjugate me to the office. 

In vain the human being meditates 

Free action. He is but the wire-worked puppet 

Of the blind power, which out of his own choice 

Creates for him a dread necessity. 

What too would it avail him, if there were 

A something pleading for him in my heart — 

Still I must kill him. 

Gor. If your heart speak to you, 

Follow its impulse. 'Tis the voice of God. 
Think you your fortunes will grow prosperous 
Bedewed with blood — his blood ? Believe it not ! 

But. You know not. Ask not ! Wherefore 
should it happen, 
That the Swedes gained the victory, and hasten 
With such forced marches hitherward ? Fain 
would I [Gordon ! 

Have given him to the Emperor's mercy — 
I do not wish his blood — But I must ransom 
The honour of my word. — it lies in pledge — 

And he must die, or — 

[Passionately grasping Gordon's hand. 
Listen, then, and know ! 
I am dishonoured if the Duke escape us. 

Gor. to save such a man 

But. What ! 

Gor. It is worth 

A sacrifice. — Come, friend ! be noble-minded ! 
Our own heart, and not other men's opinions, 
Forms our true honour. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN". 277 

Bill, [with a cold and haughty air.'] He is a 
great lord, 
This Duke — and I am but of mean importance ! 
This is what jou would say. Wherein concerns it 
The world at large, you mean to hint to me, 
\Yhether the man of low extraction keeps 
Or blemishes his honour — 
So that the man of princely rank be saved. 
We all do stamp our value on ourselves. 
The price we challenge for ourselves is given us. 
There does not live on earth the man so stationed, 
That I despise myself compared with him. 
Man is made great or little by his own will : 
Because I am true to mine, therefore he dies. 

Gor. I am endeavouring to move a rock. 
Thou hadst a mother, yet no human feelings. 
I cannot hinder you, but may some god 
Eescue him from you ! [Exit Gordon. 



Scene IX. — Butler alone. 

I treasured my good name all my life long ; 
The Duke has cheated me of life's best jewel. 
So that I blush before this poor weak Gordon ! 
He prizes above all his fealty ; 
His conscious soul accuses him of nothing ; 
In opposition to his own soft heart 
He subjugates himself to an iron duty. 
Me in a weaker moment passion warped ; 
I stand beside him, and must feel myself 



278 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

The worst man of the two. What, though the 

world 
Is ignorant of my purposed treason, yet 
0/ie man does know it, and can prove it too — 
High-minded Piccolomini ! 
There lives the man who can dishonour me ! 
This ignominy blood alone can cleanse ! 
Duke Friedland, thou or I — Into my own hands 
Fortune delivers me — The dearest thing a man 

has is himself. 

Tlie Curtain drops. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. — Butler's Cliamber. 
Butler, awe? Major Geraldin. 

But. Find me twelve strong dragoons, arm 
them with pikes. 

For there must be no firing ; 

Conceal them somewhere near the banquet-room," 
And soon as the dessert is served up, rush all in 
And cry, — Who is loyal to the Emperor ? 
I will overturn the table — while you attack 
lUo and Tertsky, and despatch them both. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 279 

The castle-palace is well barred and guarded, 
That no intelligence of this proceeding 
May make its way to the Duke. — Go instantly; 
Have you yet sent for Captain Devereux 
And the Macdonald ? 

Ger. They'll be here anon. 

\Exit Geraldin 

But. Here's no room for delay. The citizens 
Declare for him, a dizzy drunken spirit 
Possesses the whole town. They see in the Duke 
A Prince of peace, a founder of new ages 
And golden times. Arms too have been given out 
By the town-council, and a hundred citizens 
Have volunteered themselves to stand on guard. 
Despatch then be the word. For enemies 
Threaten us from without and from within. 



Scene II. — Butler, Captain Devereux and 
Macdonald. 

Mac. Here we are. General. 

Dev. What's to be the watchword ? 

But. Long live the Emperor ! 

J^oth. \recoillng.'\ How? 

But. Live the house of Austria ! 

Bev. Have we not sworn fidelity to Friedland? 

Mac. Have we not marched to this place to 

protect him ? 
But. Protect a traitor, and his country's enemy ! 



280 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Dev. Why, yes ! in his name you administered 
Our oath. 

Mac. And followed him yourself to Egra. 

But. I did it the more surely to destroy him. 

Dev. So then ! 

Mac. An altered case ! 

But. \to Devereux.] Thou wretched man ! 
So easily leav'st thou thy oath and colours? 

Dev. The devil ! — I but followed your example, 
If you could prove a villain, Avhy not we? 

Mac. We've nought to do with thinJcing — that's 
your business. 
You are our General, and give out the orders ! 
We follow you, though the track lead to hell. 

But. [appeased.^ Good, then ! we know each 
other. 

Mac. I should hope so. 

Bev. Soldiers of fortune are we — who bids most, 
He has us. 

3Iac. 'Tis e'en so ! 

But. Well, for the present 
Ye must remain honest and faithful soldiers : 

Bev. We wish no other. 

But. Ay, and make your fortunes. 

Mac. Tliat is still better. 

Bui. Listen ! 

Both. We attend. 

But. It is the Emperor's will and oi-dinance 
To seize the person of the Prince-Duke Eriedland, 
Alive or dead. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 281 

Dev. It runs so in the letter. 

Mac. Alive or dead — these were the very words. 

But. And he shall be rewarded from the State 
In land and gold, who proffers aid thereto. 

Dev. Ay ? That sounds well. The words sound 
always well, 
That travel hither from the Court. Yes ! yes ! 
"VYe know already what Court- words import. 
A golden chain perhaps in sign of favour, 
Or an old charger, or a parchment patent. 
And such like. — The Prince-Duke pays better. 

Mac. Yes, 

The Duke's a splendid paymaster. 

But. All over 

With that, my friends ! His lucky stars are set. 

3Iac. And is that certain ? 

But. You liave my word for it. 

Dev. His lucky fortunes all past by ? 

But. For ever. 

He is as poor as we. 

Mac. As poor as we ? 

Dev. Macdonald, we'll desert him. 

But. We'll desert him ! 

Full twenty thousand have done that already ; 
We must do more, my countrymen ! In short — 
We — we must kill him. 

Both, \_starting hack.'] Kill him ! 

But. Yes ! must kill him ! 

And for that purpose have I chosen you. 

Both, Us ! 



282 THE DEATH OP WALLENSTEIN. 

But. You, Captain Devereux, and thee, Mac- 
donald. 

Dev. [^after a pause."] Choose you some other. 

But. What ? art dastardly ? 

Thou, with full thirty lives to answer for — 
Thou conscientious of a sudden ? 

Dev. Nay, 

To assassinate our Lord and General — 

Mac. To whom we've sworn a soldier's oath— 

But. The oath 

Is null, for Friedland is a traitor. 

Dev. No, no ! It is too bad ! 

Mac. Yes, by my soul ! 

It is too bad. One has a conscience too — 

Dev. If it were not our chieftain, who so long 
Has issued the commands, and claim'd our 
duty, 

But. Is that the objection ? 

Dev. Were it my own father, 

And the Emperor's service should demand it of me, 
It might be done perhaps^ — But we are soldiers, 
And to assassinate our chief commander, 
That is a sin, a foul abomination. 
From which no monk or confessor absolves us. 

But. I am your Pope, and give you absolution. 
Determine quickly ! 

Dev. 'Twill not do ! 

Mac. 'Twon't do. 

But. Well, off, then ! and — send Pestalutz to 
me. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 283 

Dev. \]iesitaies?^ The Pestalutz — 

Mac. What may you want with him ? 

But. If you reject it, we can find enough — 

Dev. Nay, if he must fall, we may earn the 
bounty 
As well as any other. "What think you, 
Brother Macdonald ? 

Mac. Why if he must fall, 

And will fall, and it can't be otherwise. 
One would not give place to this Pestalutz. 

Dev. \ctfter some reflection.'] When do you pur- 
pose he should fall ? 

But. This night ;— • 

To-morrow will the Swedes be at our gates. 

Dev. You take upon you all the consequences ! 

But. I take the whole upon me. 

Dev. And it is 

The Emperor's will, his express absolute will? — ■ 
For we have instances, that folks may like 
The murder, and yet hang the murderer. 

But. The manifesto says — alive or dead. 
Alive — it is not possible — you see it is not. 

Dev. Well, dead then ! dead ! But how can we 
come at him ? 
The town is fill'd with Tertsky's soldiery. 

Mac. Ay ! and then Tertsky still remains, and 
lUo— 

But, With these you shall begin — you under- 
stand me ? 

Dev. How ? And must they too perish ? 



284 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

But. Thej the first. 

3Iac. Hear, Dev^reux ! A bloody evening this. 

Dev. Have you a man for that ? Commission 
me — 

But. 'Tis given in trust to Major Geraldin ; 
This is a carnival night, and there's a least 
Given at the castle — there we shall surprise them, 
And hew them down. The Pestalutz, and Lesley 
Have that commission — soon as that is finished — 

Dev. Hear, General ! It will be all one to you. 
Hark'e ! let me exchange with Geraldin. 

But. 'Twill be the lesser danger with the Duke. 

Dev. Danger ! The Devil ! What do you think 
me, General? 
'Tis the Duke's eye, and not his sword, I fear. 

But. What can his eye do to thee ? 

Dev. Death and hell ! 

Thou know'st that I'm no milk-sop, General ! 
But 'tis not eight days since the Duke did send me 
Twenty gold pieces for this good warm coat 
Which I have on ! and then for him to see me 
Standing before him with the pike, his murderer, 
That eye of his looking upon this coat — 
Why — why — the devil fetch me ! I'm no milk-sop ! 

But. The Duke presented thee this good warm 
coat, 
And thou, a needy wight, hast pangs of conscience 
To run him through the body in return. 
A coat that is far better and far warmer 
Did the Emperor give to him, the Prince's mantle. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 285 

How doth he thank the Emperor ? "With revolt 
And treason ! 

Dev. That is true. The devil take 

Such thankers ! I'll despatch him. 

But. And would'st quiet 

Thy conscience, thou hast nought to do but simply 
Pull off the coat ; so canst thou do the deed 
With lighi heart and good spirits. 

Dev. You are right. 

That did not strike me. Til pull off the coat — 
So there's an end of it. 

Mac. Yes, but there's another 

Point to be thought of. 

But. And what's that, Macdonald ? 

Mac. What avails sword or dagger against liim ? 
He is not to be wounded — he is — 

But. [starting tip."] What ? 

Mac. Safe against shot, and stab and flash ! 
Hard frozen, 
Secured, and warranted by the black art ! 
His body is impenetrable, I tell you. 

Dev. In Inglestadt there was just such another; 
His whole skin was the same as steel ; at last 
We were obliged to beat him down with gun- 
stocks. 

Mac. Hear what I'll do. 

Dev. Well? 

Mac. In the cloister here 

There's a Dominican, my countryman. 
I'll make him dip my sword and pike for me 



286 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

In holy water, and say over them 

One of his strongest blessings. That's probatum I 

Nothing can stand 'gainst that. 

But. So do, Macdonald ! 
But now go and select from out the regiment 
Twenty or thirty able-bodied fellows, 
And let them take the oaths to the Emperor. 
Then when it strikes eleven, when the first rounds 
Are passed, conduct them silently as may be 
To th' house — I will myself be not far off. 

Dev. But how do we get through Hartschier 
and Gordon,* 
That stand on guard there in the inner chamber? 

But. I have made myself acquainted with the 
place. 
I lead you through a back door that's defended 
By one man only. Me my rank and office 
Give access to the Duke at every hour. 
I'll go before you — with one poniard-stroke 
Cut Plartschier's wind-pipe, and make way for you. 

Dev. And when we are there, by what means 
shall we gain 
The Duke's bed-chamber, without his alarming 
The servants of the Court ; for he has here 
A numerous company of followers? 

But. The attendants fill the right wing ; he 
hates bustle. 
And lodges in the left wing quite alone. 

Dev. Were it well over — hey, Macdonald ? I 
Feel queerly on the occasion, devil knows ! 
[* Orig., Hartschiers und Garden, 1. e. yeomen and guards.] 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 287 

Mac. And I too. 'Tis too great a personage. 
People will hold us for a brace of villains. 

But, In plenty, honour, splendour — You may 
safely 
Laugh at the people's babble. 

Dev. If the business 

Squares with one's honour — if that be quite cer- 
tain — 
But. Set your hearts quite at ease. Ye save 
for Ferdinand 
His Crown and Empire. The reward can be 
No small one. 

Dev. And 'tis his purpose to dethrone the Em- 
peror ? 
But. Yes ! — Yes ! — to rob him of his crown and 

life. 
Dev. And he must fall by the executioner's 
hands, 
Should we deliver him up to the Emperor 
Alive ? 

But. It were' his certain destiny. 
Dev. Well ! Well ! Come then, Macdonald, 
he shall not 
Lie long in pain. 

[Exeunt Butler through one door, Macdonald and 
Devebeux through tlie other. 



288 THE DEATU OF WALLENSTEIN. 



Scene III. — A Gothic and gloomy Apartment at the 
Ddciiess Friedland's. Tuekla on a seat, pcUe, 
her eyes closed. The Duchess and Lady Neubrdnn 
busied about her. Wallenstein and the Countess 
in conversation ? 

Wat. How knew she it so soon ? 

Cou7i. Slie seems to have 

Foreboded some misfortune. The report 
Of an engagement, in the which had fallen 
A colonel of the imperial army, frightened her. 
I saw it instantly. She flew to meet 
The Swedish courier, and with sudden questioning, 
Soon wrested from him the disastrous secret. 
Too late we missed her, hastened after her, 
We found her lying in his arms, all pale 
And in a swoon. 

Wal. A heavy, heavy blow ! 

And she so unprepared ! Poor child ! How is it ? 
[Turning to the Duchess. 
Is she coming to herself? 

DucH. Her eyes are opening. 

Goun. She lives. 

Tfiek. [looking around her.'] Where am I ? 

Wal. [steps to her, raising her up in his arms.'] 
Come, cheerly, Thekla ! be my own brave girl ! 
See, there's thy loving mother. Thou art in 
Thy father's arms. 

Thek. [standing up.] Where is he ? Is he gone ? 

Duch. Who gone, my daughter ? 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 289 

Theh. He — the man who uttered 

That word of misery. 

Diiclt. O ! think not of it, 

My Thekla ! 

Wal. Give her sorrow leave to talk ! 

Let her complain — mingle your tears with hers, 
For she hath suffered a deep anguish ; but 
She'll rise superior to it, for my Thekla 
Hath all her father's unsubdued heart. 

T]ieh. I am not ill. See, I have power to stand. 
Why does my mother weep ? Have I alarmed her ? 
It is gone by — I recollect myself — 

l^SIie casts her ei/es round the room, as seeking some one. 
Where is he ? Please you, do not hide him from 

me, 
You see I have strength enough : now I will 
hear him. 

Duch. No, never shall this messenger of evil 
Enter again into thy presence, Thekla ! 

T/ieL My father— 

Wal. Dearest daughter ! 

T/iek. I'm not weak — 

Shortly I shall be quite myself again. 
You'll grant me one request ? 

Wal. Name it, my daughter. 

Thek. Permit the stranger to be called to me, 
And grant me leave, that by myself I may 
Hear his I'eport and question him. 

Duck. No, never ! 

Ooun. 'Tis not advisable — assent not to it. 

VOL. III. 19 



290 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Wal Hush ! Wherefore would'st thou speak 
with him, my daughter ? 

TheL Knowing the whole I shall be more col- 
lected ; 
I will not be deceived. My mother wishes 
Only to spare me. I will not be spared. 
The worst is said already ; I can hear 
Nothing of deeper anguish ! 

Coun. and Duch. Do it not. 

TheL The horror overpowered me by surprise. 
My heart betrayed me in the stranger's presence ; 
He was a witness of my weakness, yea, 
I sank into his arms ; and that has shamed me. 
I must replace myself in his esteem, 
And I must speak with him, perforce, that he, 
The stranger, may not think ungently of me. 

Wal. I see she is in the right, and am inclined 

To grant her this request of hers. Go, call him. 

[Lady Neubrunn goes to call him. 

Duch. But I, thy mother, will be present — 

TheL 'Twere 

*RIore pleasing to me, if alone I saw him: 
Trust me, I shall behave myself the more 
Collectedly. 

Wal. Permit her her own will. 
Leave her alone with him : for there are sorrows, 
Where of necessity the soul must be 
Its own support. A strong heart will rely 
On its own strength alone. In her own bosom, 
Not in her mother's arms, must she collect 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 291 

The strength to rise superior to this blow. 

It is mine own brave girl. I'll liave her treated 

Not as the woman, but the heroine. [ Going, 

Conn, [detaining him.~\ Where art thou going ? 
I heard Tertsky say 
That 'tis thy purpose to depart from hence 
To-morrow early, but to leave us here. 

Wal. Yes, ye stay here, placed under the pro- 
tection 
Of gallant men. 

Coim. take us with you, brother. 

Leave us not in this gloomy solitude 
To brood o'er anxious thoughts. The mists of 

doubt 
Magnify evils to a shape of horror. 

Wed. Who speaks of evil ! I entreat you, sister, 
Use words of better omen. 

Coun. Then take us with you. 

leave us not behind you in a place 
That forces us to such sad omens. Heavy 

And sick within me is my heart 

These walls breathe on me, like a church-yard 

vault. 

1 cannot tell you, brother, how this place 

Doth go against my nature. Take us with you. 
Come, sister, join you your entreaty ! — Niece, 
Yours too. We all entreat you, take us with you, 

Wal. The place's evil omens will I change, 
Making it that which shields and shelters for me 
My best beloved. 



292 THE DEATH OP WALLENSTElK. 

Lady Neu. [returning.'] The Swedish officer. 
Wal. Leave her alone with him. [Exit. 

Duch. [to Thekla, wJio starts and shivers.] 
There — pale as death ! Child, 'tis im- 
possible 
That thou shouldst speak with him. Follow thy 
mother. 
TJieh The Lady Neubrunn then may stay with 
roe. {Exeunt Duchess and Countess. 



Scene IV. — Thekla, the Swedish Captain, Lady Neu- 
brunn. 

Cap. [respectfully approaching her.] Princess 
— I must entreat your gentle pardon — 
My inconsiderate rash speech — How could I — 
Thek. [with dignity.] You did behold me in 
my agony. 
A most distressful accident occasioned 
You, from a stranger, to become at once 
My confidant. 

Cap. I fear you hate my presence, 

For my tongue spake a melancholy word. 

Thek. The fault is mine. Myself did wrest it 
from you. 
The horror which came o'er me interrupted 
Your tale at its commencement. May it please 

you. 
Continue it to the end. 



THE DEATH OF WALLEN STEIN. 293 

Ca-p, Princess, 'twill 

Renew your anguish. 

Theh, I am iSrm. 

I will be firm. Well — how began the engage- 
ment? 

Cajp. We lay, expecting no attack, at Neustadt, 
Entrenched but insecurely in our camp, 
When towards evening rose a cloud of dust 
From the wood thitherward ; our vanguard fled 
Into the camp, and sounded the alarm. 
Scarce had we mounted, ere the Pappenheimers, 
Their horses at full speed, broke through the lines, 
And leaped the trenches ! but their heedless cou- 
rage 
Had borne them onward far before the others — 
The infantry were still at distance, only 
The Pappenheimers followed daringly 
Their daring leader. 

[TiiEKLA betrays agitation in her gestures. Jlie Officer 
pauses till she makes a sign to him to proceed. 

Both in van and flanks 
With our whole cavalry we now received them j 
Back to the trenches drove them, where the foot 
Stretched out a solid ridge of pikes to meet them. 
They neither could advance, nor yet retreat; 
And as they stood on every side wedged in. 
The Rhinegrave to their leader called aloud, 
Inviting a surrender; but their leader. 
Young Piccolomini 

[Thekla, as giddy, grasps a chair. 



294 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Known by bis plume, 
And bis long bair, gave signal for ibe trendies ; 
Himself leaped first, tbe regiment all plunged after, 
His cbarger, by a balbert gored, reared up, 
Flung bim with violence off, and over bim 
Tbe borses, now no longer to be curbed, 

[Thekla, who has accompanied the last speech iviih all 
the marks of increasinr/ agony, trembles through her 
whole frame, and is falling, llie Lady Neu- 
BRUNN runs to her, and receives her in her arms. 

Neu. My dearest lady 



Gaf. I retire. 

Thth, 'Tis over. 

Proceed to the conclusion. 

Cajp. While despair 

Inspired tbe troops with frenzy when they saw 
Their leader perish ; every thought of rescue 
Was spurned ; they fought like wounded tigers ; 

their 
Frantic resistance roused our soldiery ; 
A murderous fight took place, nor was tbe contest 
Finished before their last man fell. 

Theh. \_falteriiig.~\ And where • 

Where is — You have not told me all. 

Cap. [after a pause."] This morning 

We buried him. Twelve youths of noblest birth 
Did bear bim to interment ; the whole army 
Followed the bier. A laurel decked his coffin ; 
The sword of the deceased was placed upon it, 
In mark of honour, by tbe llbinegrave's self. 



THE DEAXn OF WALLENSTEIN. 295 

Nor tears were wanting ; for there are among ua 
Many who had themselves experienced 
The greatness of his mind, and gentle manners ; 
All were affected at his fate. The Rhinegrave 
Would willingly have saved him ; but himself 
Made vain the attempt — 'tis said he wished to die. 

Neu. \to Thekla, who has hidden her coun" 
tenance.'] Look up, my dearest lady 

Thek. Where is his grave ? 

Cap. At Neustadt, lady ; in a cloister church 
Are his remains deposited, until 
We can receive directions from his father. 

Thek. What is the cloister's name ? 

Cap. Saint Catharine*s. 

Thek. And how far is it thither? 

Cap. Near twelve leagues. 

T/iek. And which the way ? 

Cap. You go by Tirschenreit 

And Falkenberg through our advanced posts. 

Thek. Who 

Is their commander ? 

Cap. Colonel Seckendorf. 

[Thekla steps to the table, and takes a i~ingfrom a casket, 

Thek. You have beheld me in my agony, 
And shown a feeling heart. Please you, accept 

[ Giviiuj him the ring. 
A small memorial of this hour. Now go! 

Cap. Princess 

[Thekla silently makes signs to him to go, and turns 
from him. The Captain lingers, and is about to 
speak. Lady Neubrunn repeats the signal, and 
he retires. 



296 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 



Scene V. — Thekla, Lady Neubrunn. 

Tlieh. \_faUs on Lady Neubrunn's neck.'] Now^ 
gentle Neubrunn, show me the alfeetion 
Which tliou hast ever promised — prove thyself 
My own true friend and faithful fellow-pilgrim. 
This night we must away! 

Neu, Away! and whither? 

Thek. Whither ! There is but one place in 
the wo rid- 
Thither where he lies buried ! To his coffin! 
Neu. AVhat would you do there ? 
Thek. What do there? 

That vvould'st thou not have asked, hadst thou 

e'er loved. 
There, there is all that still remains of him. 
That single spot is the whole earth to me. 

Neu. That place of death 

Thek. Is now the only place, 

Where life yet dwells for me : detain me not ! 
Come and make preparations : let us think 
Of means to fly from hence. 

Neu. Your father's rage 

Thek. Tliat time is past 

And now 1 fear no human being's rage. 

Neu. The sentence of the world! the tongue 

of calumny ! 
Thek. Wiiom am I seeking? llim who is no 
more. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 297 

Am I then hastening to the arms — — God ! 
I haste but to the grave of the beloved. 

Neu. And we alone, two helpless feeble women ? 

Thek. We will take weapons : my arms shall 
protect thee. 

Neu. In the dark night-time? 

Thek. Darkness will conceal us. 

Neil. This rough tempestuous night 

Thek. Had he a soft bed 

Under the hoofs of his war-horses ? 

Neu. Heaven ! 

And then the many posts of the enemy ! — 

TJiek. They are human beings. Misery travels 
free 
Through the whole earth. 

Neu. The journey's weary length — 

Thek. The pilgrim travelling to a distant shrine 
Of hope and healing, doth not count the leagues. 

Neu. How can we pass the gates ? 

Thek. Gold opens them. 

Go, do but go. 

Neu. Should we be recognized — 

Thek. In a despairing woman, a poor fugitive, 
Will no one seek the daughter of Duke P^riedland. 

Neu. And where procure we horses for our 
flight? 

Thek. My equerry procures them. Go and 
fetch him. 

Neu. Dares he, without the knowledge of his 
lord ? 



298 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Thek. He will. Go, only go. Delay no longer* 

Neu, Dear lady ! and your mother ? 

Theh Oh ! my mother I 

Neu. So much as she has suffered too already; 
Your tender mother — Ah ! how ill prepared 
For this last anguish ! 

Thek, Woe is me ! my mother ! 

\Pauses. 
Go instantly. 

Neu. But think what you are doing ! 

Tlieh. What can be thought, already has been 
thought. 

Neu. And being there, what purpose you to do ? 

Thek. There a divinity will prompt my soul. 

Neu. Your heart, dear lady, is disquieted! 
And this is not the way that leads to quiet. 

Thek. To a deep quiet, such as he has found. 
It draws me on, I know not what to name it, 
Resistless does it draw me to his grave. 
There will my heart be eased, my tears will flow, 
O hasten, make no further questioning! 
There is no rest for me till I have left 
These walls — they fall in on me — A dim power 
Drives me from hence — Oh mercy ! AVhat a 

feeling ! 
What pale and hollow forms are those ! They fill, 
They crowd the place ! I have no longer room 

here ! 
Mercy ! Still more ! More still ! The hideous 
swarm ! 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 290 

They press on me; they chase me from these 

walls — 
Those hollow, bodiless forms of living men ! 

Neu. You frighten me so, lady, that no longer 
I dare stay here myself. I go and call 
Koseuberg instantly. \Exit Lady Neubeunn. 



Scene VL 

Thek. His spirit 'tis that calls me : 'tis the troop 
Of his true followers, who offered up 
Themselves t'avenge his death: and they accuse 

me 
Of an ignoble loitering — they would not 
Forsake their leader even in his death — they died 

for him ! 

And shall / live ? 

For me too was that laurel-garland twined 
That decks his bier. Life is an empty casket : 
I throw it from me. O ! my only hope ;— 
To die beneath the hoofs of trampling steeds — • 

That is the lot of heroes upon earth ! 

\Exii Thekla. 
TAe Curtain drops. 



300 THE DEATH OP WALLENSTEIN. 



ACT V. 

Scene I. — A Saloon, terminated hy a gallery which extends 
far into the back-ground. Wallenstein sitting at a 
table. The Swedish Captain standing bpfore him. 

Wal. Commend me to your lord. I sympathize 
In his good fortune ; and if you have seen me 
Deficient in the expressions of that joy, 
Wliich such a victory might well demand, 
Attribute it to no lack of good will, 
For henceforth are our fortunes one. Farewell, 
And for your trouble take my thanks. To-morrow 
The citadel shall be surrendered to you 
On your arrival. 

[The Swedish Captain retires. Wallenstet^j sits 
lost in thought, his eyes Jixed vacantly, and his head 
sustained by his hand. The Oodntkss Tertsky 
enters, stands before him awhile, unobserved by him / 
at length he starts, sees her, and recollects himself 

Wal. Com*st thou from her ? Is she restored? 

How is she ? 
Coun. My sister tells me, she was more col- 
lected 
After her conversation with the Swede. 
She has now retired to rest. 

Wal. The pang will soften, 

She will shed tears. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 301 

Coun. I find thee altered too, 

My brother ! After such a victory 
I had expected to have found in thee 
A cheerful spirit. remain thou firm ! 
Sustain, uphold us ! For our light thou art, 
Our sun. 

Wal. Be quiet. I ail nothing. Where's 
Thy husband ? 

Coun. At a banquet — he and Illo. 

Wal. [rises, and strides across the room.'] The 
night's far spent. Betake thee to thy 
chamber. 

Coun. Bid me not go, O let me stay with thee ! 

Wal. [moves to the window.'] There is a busy 
motion in the heaven. 
The wind doth chase the flag upon the tower, 
Fast sweep the clouds'", the sickle * of the moon, 
Struggling, darts snatches of uncertain light. 

* These four lines are expressed in the original with ex- 
quisite felicity, 

Am Himmel ist geschiiftige Bewegimg, 
Des Thurmes Fiihne jagt der Wind, schnell geht 
Der Wolken Zug, die Mondesslcliel tvanM, 
TJnd durch die Nacht zuckt vuigewisse Helle- 
The word " inoon-sickle" reminds me of a passage in Har- 
ris, as quoted by Johnson, under the word " filcated." " The 
enlightened part of the moon appears in the form of a sickle 
or reaping-hook, which is while she is moving from the con- 
junction to tlie opposition, or from the new moon to the full ; 
but from full to a new again, the enlightened part appears 
gibbous, and the davh falcated.^ ^ 

The words " wankeu" and " schweben" are not easily 
translated. The English words, by which we attempt to 



302 THE DEATH OF -WALLENSTEIN. 

No form of star is visible ! That one 
White stain of Hght, that single glimmering yonder, 
Is from Cassiopeia, and therein 
Is Jupiter. [_A pause.^ But now 
The blackness of the troubled element hides him ! 
[lie sinks into profound mdancholy, and looks vacantly 
into the distance. 

Coun. [loohs on him mournfully, then grasps 
his hand.] What art thou brooding on ? 

Wal. Methinks, 

If but I saw him, 'twould be well with me. 
He is the star of my nativity, 
And often marvellously hath his aspect 
Shot strength into my heart. 

Coun. Thou'lt see him again. 

Wal. [remains for a while with absent mind, 
then assumes a livelier manner, and turns sudden- 
ly to the Countess.] See him again ? O never, 
never again. 

Coun. How ? 

WaL He is gone — is dust. 

Coun. Whom meanest thou then ? 

Wal. He, the more fortunate ! yea, he hath 

finished ! 

For him there is no longer any future. 

His life is bright — bright without spot it was 

And cannot cease to be. No ominous hour 

render them, are either vulgar or pedantic, or not of suffi- 
ciently general application. So " der Wolken Zug " — the 
draft, the procession of clouds. — The masses of the clouds 
sweep onward in swift stream. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 303 

Knocks at his door with tidings of mishap. 

Far off' is lie, above desire and fear ; 

No more submitted to the change and chance 

Of the unsteady planets. O 'tis well 

With him ! but who knows what the coming hour 

Veil'd in thick darkness brings for us ! 

Coun. Thou speak'st 

Of Piccolomini. What was his death ? 
The courier had just left thee as I came. 

[Wallenstein hy a motion of his hand makes signs to 
her to be silent. 

Turn not thine eyes upon the backward view, 
Let us look forward into sunny days, 
Welcome with joyous heart the victory, 
Forget what it has cost thee. Not to-day, 
For the first time, thy friend was to thee dead j 
To thee he died, when first he parted from thee. 
Wal. I shall grieve down this blow, of that I'm 
conscious : 
What does not man grieve down ? From the 

highest. 
As from the vilest thing of every day 
He learns to wean himself ; for the strong hours 
Conquer him. Yet I feel what I have lost 
In him. The bloom is vanished from my life. 
For O ! he stood beside me, like my youth, 
Transformed for me the real to a dream, 
Clothing the palpable and familiar 
With golden exhalations of the dawn. 
Whatever fortunes wait my future toils, 



304: THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

The heautiful is vanished — and returns not. 

Coun. O be not treacherous to thy own power. 
Thy heart is rich enough to vivify 
Itself. Thou lov'st and prizest virtues in him, 
The which thyself didst plant, thyself unfold. 
Wal. \_stepping to the door.'] Who interrupts us 
now at this late hour ? 
It is the Governor. He brings the keys 
Of the Citadel. 'Tis midnight. Leave me, sister ! 
Coun. O 'tis so hard to me this night to leave 
thee — 
A boding fear possesses me ! 

Wal Fear ! Wherefore ? 

Coun. Should'st thou depart this night, and we 
at waking 
Never more find thee ! 

Wal. Fancies ! 

Coun. O my soul 

Has long been weighed down by these dark fore- 
bodings. 
And if I combat and repel them waking, 
They still rush down upon my heart in dreams. 
I saw thee yesternight with thy first wife 
Sit at a banquet gorgeously attired. 

Wal. This was a dream of favourable omen, 
That marriage being the founder of my fortunes. 
Coun. To-day I dreamed that I was seeking 
thee 
In thy own chamber. As I entered, lo ! 
It was no more a chamber ; — the Chartreuse 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 305 

At Gitscliin 'twas, which thou thyself hast founded, 
And where it is thy will that thou shouldst be 
Interred. 

IVal. Thy soul is busy with these thoughts. 

Coun. What! dost thou not believe that oft in 
dreams 
A voice of warning speaks prophetic to us ? 

Wal. There is no doubt that there exists such 
voices. 
Yet I would not call ihe7n 
Voices of warning that announce to us 
Only the inevitable. As the sun, 
Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image 
In the atmosphere, so often do the spirits 
Of great events stride on before the events, 
And in to-day already walks to-morrow. 
That which we read of the fourth Henry's death 
Did ever vex and haunt me like a tale 
Of my own future destiny. The king 
Felt in his breast the phantom of the knife, 
Long ere Ravaillac armed himself therewith. 
His quiet mind forsook him : the phantasma 
Started him in his Louvre, chased him forth 
Into the open air : hke funeral knells 
Sounded that coronation festival ; 
And still with boding sense he heard the tread 
Of those feet that even then were seeking him 
Throughout the streets of Paris, 

Coun. And to thee 

The voice within thy soul bodes nothing ? 
VOL. III. 20 



806 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Wal Nothing. 

Be wholly tranquil. 

Cou7i. And another time 

I hastened after thee, and thou ran'st from me 
Through a long suite, through many a spacious 

hall, 
There seemed no end of it : doors creaked and 

clapped: 
I followed panting, but could not o'ertake thee ; 
"When on a sudden did I feel myself 
Grasped from behind — the hand was cold that 

grasped me — 
*Twas thou, and thou didst kiss me, and there 

seemed 
A crimson covering to envelope us. 

WaL That is the crimson tapestry of my cham- 
ber. 
Ooun. [^gazing on Mm.'] If it should come to 
that — if I should see thee. 
Who standest now before me in the fulness 
Qf life — [She falls on his breast and weeps. 

WaL The Emperor's proclamation weighs upon 
thee — 
Alphabets wound not — and he finds no hands. 
Court. If he should find them, my resolve is 
taken — 
I bear about me my support and refuge. 

{Exit Countess. 



THE DEATH OF WALLEN STEIN. 307 



Scene II. — Wallenstein, Gordon. 

Will. All quiet in the town ? 

Gor, The town is quiet. 

Wal. I hear a boisterous music, and the Castle 
Is lighted up. Who are the revellers ? 

Gor. There is a banquet given at the Castle 
To the Count Tertsky, and Field Marshal Illo. 

Wal. In honor of the victory. — This tribe 
Can show their joy in nothing else but feasting. 

[Rings. The Groora of the Chamber enters. 
Unrobe me, I will lay me down to sleep. 

[Wallenstein takes the keys from GoRDON. 
So we are guarded from all enemies, 
And shut in with sure friends. 
For all must cheat me, or a face like this 

[Fixing his eye on Gordon. 
Was ne'er a hypocrite's mask. 

[The Groom of the Chamber takes off his mantle, col- 
lar., and scarf. 
Wal. Take care — what is that ? 

Groom of the Chamher. The golden chain is 

snapped in two. 
Wal. Well, it has lasted long enough. Here — 
give it. [^6 takes and looks at the chain 

'Tv/as the first present of the Emperor. 
He hung it round me in the war of Friule, 
He being then Archduke ; and I have worn it 

Till now from habit 

From superstition if you will. Belike, 



308 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIK. 

It was to be a talisman to me, 

And while I wore it on my neck in faith, 

It was to chain to me all my life long, 

The volatile fortune, whose first pledge it was. 

Well, be it so ! Henceforward a new fortune 

Must spring up for me ! for the potency 

Of this charm is dissolved. 

[Groom of the Chamber retires with the vestments, 
Wallenstein rises, takes a stride across the 
Room, and stands at last before Gordon in a pos- 
ture of meditation. 

How the old time returns upon me ! I 
Behold myself once more at Burgau, where 
"We two wei*e pages of the Court together. 
We oftentimes disputed : thy intention 
Was ever good ; but thou wert wont to play 
The moralist and preacher, and would^st rail at 

me — 
That I strove after things too high for me. 
Giving my faith to bold unlawful dreams, 
And still extol to me the golden mean. 
■ — Thy wisdom hath been proved a thriftless friend 
To thy own self. See, it has made thee early 
A superannuated man, and (but 
That my munificent stars will intervene) 
Would let thee in some miserable corner 
Go out like an untended lamp. 

Gor, My Prince ! 

With light heart the poor fisher moors his boat, 
And watches from the shore the lofty ship 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 



309 



Stranded amid the storm. 

)f(il Art thou ah-eady 

In harbour then, old man ? Well ! I am not. 

The unconquered spirit drives me o'er life's bil- 
lows ; 

My planks still firm, my canvas swelling proudly, 

Hope is my goddess still, and youth my inmate ; 

And while we stand thus front to front, almost 

I might presume to say, that the swift years 

Have passed by powerless o'er my unblanched 
hair. 
[He moves with long strides across the Saloon, and re- 
mains on the opposite side over against Gordon. 

Who now persists in calling Fortune false? 

To me she has proved faithful, with fond love 
Took me from out the common ranks of men, 
And like a mother goddess with strong arm 
Carried me swiftly up the steps of life. 
Nothing is common in my destiny, 
Nor in tlK3 furrows of my hand. Who dares 
Interpret then my life for me a^ 'twere 
One of the undistinguishable many ? 
True, in this present moment I appear 
Fall'n low indeed ; but I shall rise again. 
The high flood will soon follow on this ebb ; 
The fountain of my fortune, which now stops 
Repressed and bound by some malicious star, 
Will soon in joy play forth from all its pipes. 

Gor. And yet remember I the good old proverb 
« Let the night come before we praise the day." 



310 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

I would be slow from long continued fortune 
To gather hope : for hope is the companion 
Given to the unfortunate by pitying Heaven. 
Fear hovers round the head of prosperous men ; 
For still unsteady are the scales of fate. [of old 
Wal. [smilinff.] I hear the very Gordon that 
Was wont to preach to me, now once more 

preaching ; 
I know well, that all sublunary things 
Are still the vassals of vicissitude. 
The unpropitious gods demand their tribute. 
This long ago the ancient Pagans knew : 
And therefore of their own accord they offered 
To themselves injuries, so to atone 
The jealousy of their divinities : 
And human sacrifices bled to Typhon. 

[After a pause, serious, and in a more subdued manner 
I too have sacrificed to him — For me 
There fell the dearest friend, and through my 

fault 
He fell ! No joy from favourable fortune 
Can overweigh the anguish of this stroke. 
The envy of ray destiny is glutted : 
Life pays for life. On his pure head the lightning 
Was drawn off* which would else have shattered me. 

Scene III. — To these enter Seni. 

Wal. Is not that Seni ? and beside himself, 
If one may trust his looks ! what brings thee 
hither 



TUE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 311 

At this late hour, Baptista ? 

Seni. Terror, Duke I 

On thy account. 

Wal What now ? 

Seni. Flee ere the day -break ! 

Trust not thy person to the Swedes ! 

Wal. What now 

Is in thy thoughts ? 

Seni. [^with louder voice.'] Trust not thy person 
to these Swedes ! 

Wal. What is it then ? 

Seni. [still more urgently.~\ O wait not the ar- 
rival of these Swedes ! 
An evil near at hand is threatening thee 
From false friends. All the signs stand full of 

horror ■ 
Near, near at hand the net-work of perdition — 
Yea, even now 'tis being cast around thee ! 

Wal. Baptista, thou art dreaming ! — Fear be- 
fools thee. [me. 

Seni. Believe not that an empty fear deludes 
Come, read it in the planetary aspects ; 
Read it tliyself, that ruin threatens thee 
From false friends ! 

Wal. From the falseness of my friends 

Has risen the whole of my unprosperous fortunes. 
The warning should have come before ! At pre- 
sent 
I need no revelation from the stars 
To know that. 

Seni. Come and see ! trust thine own eyes 



312 THE DEATH OF 'U'ALLEXSTErN". 

A fearful sign standi in the house of life — 
An enemy ; a fiend lurks close behind 
The radiance of thy planet — be warned ! 
Dehver not thyself up to these heathens 
To wage a war against our holy church. 

Wal. [laiigJiing gently.'] The oracle rails that 
way ! Yes, yes ! Now 
1 recollect. This junction with the Swedes 
Did never please thee — lay thyself to sleep, 
Baptista ! Signs like these I do not fear. 

Gor. [who during the whole of this dialogue 
has shown marhs of extreme agitation, and now 
turns to Wallenstein.] My Duke and General ! 
May I dare presume? 

Wal. Speak freely. 

Gor. What if 'twere no mere creation 

Of fear, if God's high providence vouchsafed 
To interpose its aid for your deliverance, 
And made that mouth its organ. 

Wal. You're both feverish ! 

How can mishap come to me from the Swedes ? 
They sought this junction with me — 'tis their in- 
terest. 

Gor. [with difficulty suppressing his emotion,"] 
But what if the arrival of these Swedes — 
What if this were the very thing that winged 
The ruin that is flying to your temples ? 

[Flings himself at his feet. 
There is yet time, my Prince. 

Seni. hear him ! hear him ! 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 313 

Gor. [r/5e5.] The Rhinegrave's still far off. 
Give but the orders, 
This citadel shall close its gates upon him. 
If then he will besiege us, let him try it. 
But this I say ; he'll find his own destruction 
With his wliole force before these ramparts, sooner 
Than weary down the valour of our spirit. 
He shall experience what a band of heroes, 
Inspirited by an heroic leader. 
Is able to perform. And if indeed 
It be thy serious wish lo make amends 
For that which thou hast done amiss, — this, this 
Will touch and reconcile the Emperor. 
Who gladly turns his heart to thoughts of mercy, 
And Friedland, who returns repentant to him, 
Will stand yet higher in his Emperor's favour. 
Than e'er he stood when he had never fallen. 

Wal. [contemplates him with surprise, remains 
silent awhile, hetraijing strong emotion.'] Gordon — 

your zeal and fervour lead you far. 
Well, well — an old friend has a privilege. 
Blood, Gordon, has been flowing. Never, never 
Can the Emperor pardon me : and if he could, 
Yet I — I ne'er could let myself be pardoned. 
Had I foreknown what now has taken place, 
That he, my dearest friend would fall for me. 
My first death-offering : and had the heart 
Spoken to me, as now it has done — Gordon, 
It may be I might have bethought myself. 
It may be too, I might not. Might or might not, 



314 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Is now an idle question. All too seriously 
Has it begun to end in nothing, Gordon ! 
Let it then have its course. 

\Stepping to the window. 
All dark and silent — at the castle too 
All is now hushed — Light me Chamberlain ! 

[The Groom of the Chamber, who had entered during 
the last dialogue^ and had been standing at a distance 
and listening to it with visible expre.ssions of the 
deepest interest, advances in extreme agitation, and 
throws himself at the Duke's /eei. 
And thou too ! But I know why thou dost wish 
Mj reconcilement with the Emperor. 
Poor man ! he hath a small estate in Ciirnthen, 
And fears it will be forfeited because 
He's in my service. Am 1 then so poor, 
That I no longer can indemnify 
My servants. Well ! To no one I employ 
Means of compulsion. If 'tis thy belief 
That fortune has fled from me, go ! Forsake me. 
This night for the last time majst thou unrobe me, 
And then go over to thy Emperor. 
Gordon, good night ! I think to make a long 
Sleep of it: for the struggle and the turmoil 
Of this last day or two were great." May't please 

you ! 
Take care that they awake me not too early. 

[Exit Wallexsteix, the Groom of the Chamber, 
lighting him. Seni follows, GoRDOX remains on 
the darkened Stage, following the Duke loith his eye 
till he disappears at the farther end of the gallery . 
then by his gestures the old man expresses the depth 
of his anguish, and stands kaning against a pillar. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 315 



Scene IV. — Gordon, Butlek (at first behind the scenes.) 

Bid. [_not yet come into view of the stage.'] 
Here stand in silence till I give the signal. 
Go7\ [^starts up.] 'Tis he, he has already 

brought the murderers. 
But. The lights are out. All lies in profound 

sleep. 
Gov. What shall I do, shall I attempt to save 
him ? 
Shall I call up the house ? Alarm the guards ? 
But. [appears, hut scarcely on the stage.] A 
light gleams hither from the corridor. 
It leads directly to the Duke's bed-chamber. 
Gor. But then I break my oath to the Empe- 
ror ; 
If he escape and strengthen the enemy, 
Do I not hereby call down on my head 
All the dread consequences ? 

But. [stepping forward.] Hark ! lYlio speaks 

there ? 
Gor. 'Tis better, I resign it to the hands 
Of Providence. For what am I, that / 
Should take upon myself so great a deed ? 
/have not murdered him, if he be murdered ; 
But all his rescue were my act and deed ; 
Mine — and whatever be the consequences, 
I must sustain them. 

But. [advances.] I should know that voice. 



SI 6 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Got. Butler ! 

But. 'Tis Gordon. What do you want here ? 
Was it so late then when the Duke dismissed you ? 

Gov. Your hand bound up and in a scarf? 

But. 'Tis wounded. 

That Illo fought as he was frantic, till 
At last we threw him on the ground. 

Got. \shuddering.'\ Both dead? 

But. Is he in bed ? 

Gor. Ah, Butler! 

But. Is he ? speak. 

Got. He shall not perish! not through you! 
The Heaven 
^Refuses your arm. See — 'tis \vounded ! — 

But. There is no need of my arm. 

Gor. The most guilty 

Have perished, and enough is given to justice. - 

[The Groom of the Chamber af/i'OHces from thegallery 
with Ids finger on his mouth commanding silence. 

He sleeps ! murder not the holy sleep ! 

But. No ! he shall die awake. [«« going. 

Gor. His heart still cleaves 

To earthly things : he's not prepared to step 
Into the presence of his God ! 

But. [going.~\ God 's merciful ! 

Gor. \Jiolds him.'] Grant him but this night's 
respite. 

But. [Jiurrying off'.] The next moment 

May ruin all. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 317 



Gor. [Jiolds him still] One hour ! 

But. Unhold me ! What 

Can that short respite profit him ? 

Gor, 0— Time 

Works miracles. In one hour many thousands 
Of grains of sand run out; and quick as they, 
Thought follows thought within the human soul. 
Only one hour ! Tour heart may change*its pur- 
pose, 
His heart may change its purpose — some new 

tidings 
May come : some fortunate event, decisive, 
May fall from Heaven and rescue him. O what 
May not one hour achieve ! 

JBut. You but remind me, 

How^ precious every minute is ! 

[He stamps on thejloor. 



Scene V. — To these enter Macdonald and Deveeeux, 
wiih the Halberdiers. 

Gor. [throwing himself between him and them.'] 
No, monster ! 

First over my dead body thou shalt tread. 
I will not live to see the accursed deed ! 

But. [forcing him out of the way.'] Weak- 
hearted dotard ! 

[Trumpets are heard in the distance. 
JDev. and Mac. Hark ! the Swedish trumpets I 



318 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

The Swedes before the ramparts ! Let us has- 
ten ! 
Gov. [rushes out.'] God of Mercy ! 
But. [calling after him.] Governor to your 

post! 
Groom of the Chamber, [hurries in.] Who 
dares make larum here ? Hush ! The 
Duke sleeps. 
Dev. [with loud harsh voice.] Friend, it is 

time now to make larum. 
Groom of the Ghamher. Help ! 
Murder ! 

But. Down with him ! 

Groom of the Ghamher. [run through the body 
hy DEVEREUX,yaZ/s at the entrance of the gallery.] 
Jesus Maria! 

But. Burst the doors open ! 

[Tliey rush over the body into the gallery — two doors are heard 
to crash one after the otlier — Voices deadened hy the dis- 
tance — Clash of arms — then all at once a profound si* 
lence. 



Scene VI. — Cotintess Tertskt (with a light.) 

Her bed-chamber is empty ; she herself 
Is nowhere to be found ! The Neubrunn too, 
Who watched by her, is missing. If she should 
Be flown — But whither flown ? We must call up 
Every soul in the house. How will the Duke 
Bear up against these worst bad tidings ? O 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 319 

If that my husband now were but returned 
Home from the banquet : Hark ! I wonder 

whether 
The Duke is still awake ! I thought I heard 
Voices and tread of feet here ! I will go 
And listen at the door. Hiu-k ! What is that ? 
*Tis hastening up the steps ! 



Scene VII. — Countess, Gordon. 

Gor. [riishes in out of breath.'] 'Tis a mistake, 
'Tis not the Swedes — Ye must proceed no fur- 
ther — 
Butler ! O God ! Where is he ? 

{Then observing the Countess. 

Countess ! Saj 

Coun. You are come then from the castle ? 

Where's my husband ? 
Gor. [in an agony of affright.'] Your husband ! 

—Ask not ! — To the Duke 

Coun. Not till 

You have discovered to me 

Gor. On this moment 

Does the world hang. For God's sake ! to the 
Duke. 

While we are speaking [Calling loudly. 

Butler ! Butler ! God ! 

Coun. Why, he is at the castle with my husband. 

[Butler comes from the gallery. 



320 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Gor. 'Tvvas a mistake — 'Tis not the Swedes — 
it is 
The Imperialists' Lieutenant-GeDeral 
Has sent me hither, will be here himself 
Instantly. — You must not proceed. 

But, He comes 

Too late. [Gordon dashes himself against t/ie wall. 

Gor. O God of mercy ! 

Coun. AVhat, too late ? 

Who will be here himself? Octavio 
In Egra ? Treason ! Treason ! Where's the 
Duke ? ['5^ rushes to the gallery. 



Scene VIII. — Servants run across the Stage full of terror. 
Tlie whole Scene must be spoken entirely ivitliout pauses. 

Sent. [_from the gallery.'] O bloody frightful 

deed! 
Coun. What is it, Seni ? 

Page, \_from the gallery.'^ piteous sight ! 

\Other Servants hasten in with torches. 
Coun. What is it ? For God's sake ! 
Seni. And do you ask ? 

Within the Duke lies murdered — and your hus- 
band 
Assassinated at the Castle. 

[The Countess stands motionless. 
female Servant, [^rushing across the Stage."] 
Help ! Help ! the Duchess ! 



THE DEATU OF WALLENSTEIN. 321 

Burgomaster. [enters.~\ What mean these con- 
fused 
Loud cries, that wake the sleepers of this house ? 

Gor. Your house is cursed to all eternity. 
In your house doth the Duke lie murdered ! 
Bur. [rusldng out.'] Heaven forbid ! 

\st Ser. Fly ! fly ! they murder us all ! 
2c? Ser. [carrying silver plate.] That way I 
The lower 
Passages are blocked up. 

Voice from behind the Scene. Make room for 

the Lieutenant-General ! 
YAt these words the Countess starts from her stupor^ 
collects herself^ and retires suddenly. 

Voice from behind the Scene. Keep back the 
people ! Guard the door. 



Scene IX. — To these enters Octavio Piccolomini with 
all his train. At the same time Deveredx and Mac- 
DONALD enter from out the Corridor icith the Halberdiers, 
Wallenstein's dead body is carried over the back part 
of the Stage, wrapped in a piece of crimson tapestry. 

Oct. \_ente7'ing abruptly.] It must not be ! It 
is not possible ! 
Butler ! Gordon ! 

I'll not believe it. Say no ! 
[Gordon, without answering, points with his hand to the 
body of Wai LENSTEIN OS It IS Carried over the 
back of the Stage. Octavio looks tltat way, and 
stands overpowered with horror. 
VOL. III. 21 



S22 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

Dev. [to Butler.] Here is the golden fleece — 

the Duke's sword — 
Mac. Is it your order — 
But. [^pointing to Octavio.] Here stands he 

who now 
Hath the sole power to issue orders. 

[Devereux and Macdonald retire with marlcs of 
obeisance. One drops away after the other, till only 
Butler, Octavio, and Gordon remain on i/ie 
Stage. 

Oct. {turning to Butler.] Was that my pur- 
pose, Butler, when we parted ? 
O God of Justice ! 

To thee I lift my hand ! I am not guilty 
Of this foul deed. 

But. Your hand is pure. You have 

Availed yourself of mine. 

Oct. Merciless man ! 

Thus to abuse the orders of thy Lord — 
And stain thy Emperor's holy name with murder, 
With bloody, most accursed assassination ! 

But. \calmly.'\ I've but fulfilled the Emperor's 
own sentence. 

Oct. O curse of kings, 
Infusing a dread life into their words, 
And linking to the sudden transient thought 
The unchangeable irrevocable deed. 
Was there necesssity for such an eager 
Despatch ? Couldst thou not grant the merciful 
A time for mercy ? Time is man's good angel. 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 323 

To leave no interval between the sentence, 
And the fulfilment of it, doth beseem 
God only, the immutable ! 

But. For what 

Rail you against me ? What is my offence ? 
The Empire from a fearful enemy 
Have I delivered, and expect reward. 
The single difference 'twixt you and me 
Is this : you placed the arrow in the bow, 
I pulled the string. You sowed blood, and yet 

stand 
Astonished that blood is come up. I always 
Knew what I did, and therefore no result 
Hath power to frighten or surprise my spirit. 
Have you aught else to order ? — for this instant 
I make my best speed to Vienna ; place 
My bleeding sword before my Emperor's throne. 
And hope to gain the applause which undelaying 
And punctual obedience may demand 
From a just judge. [Exit Butler. 



Scene X.— To these enter the Countess Tertsky, pale 
and disordered. Her utterance is slow and feeble, and 
unimpassioned. 

Oct. [meeting her."] O Countess Tertsky ! These 
are the results 
Of luckless unblest deeds. 

Court. They are the fruits 

Of your contrivances. The Duke is dead. 



324 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

My husband too is dead, the Duchess struggles 
In the pangs of death, my niece has disappeared. 
This house of splendour and of princely glory, 
Doth now stand desolated ; the affrighted servants 
Rush forth through all its doors. I am the last 
Therein ; I shut it up, and here deliver 
The keys. 

Oct. [with deep anguish,] O Countess ! my 
house too is desolate. 

Coun. Who next is to be murdered ? Who is 
next 
To be maltreated ? Lo ! The Duke is dead. 
The Emperor's vengeance may be pacified ! 
Spare the old servants ; let not their fidelity 
Be imputed to the faithful as a crime — 
The evil destiny surprised my brother 
Too suddenly : he could not think on them. 

Oct. Speak not of vengeance ! Speak not of 
maltreatment ! 
The Emp'ror is appeased ; the heavy fault 
Hath heavily been expiated — nothing 
Descended from the father to the daughter, 
Except bis glory and his services. 
The Empress honours your adversity, 
Takes part in your afllictions, opens to you 
Her motherly arms ! Therefore no farther fears ! 
Yield yourself up in hope and confidence 
To the Imperial Grace! 

Coun. [with her eye raised to heaven.'] To the 
grace and mercy of a greater Master 



THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 325 

Do I yield up myself. "Where shall the body 

Of the Duke have its place of final rest ? 

In the Chartreuse, which he himself did found 

At Gitschin, rests the Countess Wallenstein ; 

And by her side, to whom he was indebted 

For his first fortunes, gratefully he wished 

He might sometime repose in death ! O let him 

Be buried there. And likewise, for my husband's 

Remains, I ask the like grace. The Emperor 

Is now proprietor of all our castles. 

This sure may well be granted us — one sepulchre 

Beside the sepulchres of our forefathers ! 

Oct. Countess, you tremble, you turn pale ! 

Coun. [reassembles all her powers, and speaks 
with energy and dignity. ~\ You think 
More worthily of me, than to believe 
I would survive the downfall of ray house. 
We did not hold ourselves too mean to grasp 
After a monarch's crown — the crown did fate 
Deny, but not the feeling and the spirit 
That to the crown belong ! We deem a 
Courageous death more worthy of our free station 
Than a dishonoured life. — I have taken poison. 

Oct. Help ! Help ! Support her ! 

Coun. Nay, it is too late. 

In a few moments is my fate accomplished. 

[Exit Countess. 

Gor. house of death and horrors ! 

\An officer enters, and brings a letter with the great seal. 
Gor. [steps forward and meets him.'] What is 
this ? 



326 THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN. 

It is the Imperial Seal. 

[He reads the address, and delivers the letter to Octavio 
with a look of reproach, and with an emphasis on the 
word. 

To the Prince Piccolomini. 

[Octavio with his whole frame expressive of sudden 
anguish, raises his eyes to heaven. 

The curtain drops. 



KOTES TO THE TRANSLATION, 



EEPRIKTED FKOM THE FIRST EDITIOX. 



Page IGl, line 1. 
This age and after-ages speak my name. 

Could I have hazarded such a Germanism, as the use of 
the word after-world for posterity, — " Eh' spreche Welt und 
Nachwelt meinen Namen" might have been rendered with 
more literal fideUty: — Let world and after- world speak out 
my name, &c. 

Page 161, line 12. 
MaJce ihyjlesh shudder, and tiiy whole heart sicken^ 

I have not ventured to affront the fastidious delicacy of our 
age with a literal translation of this line — 

" werth 
Die Eingeweide schaudernd aufzuregen." 
(This is omitted in the Geniian as it now stands. — D. C.) 

Page 240, line 20. 
I have here ventured to omit a considerable number of 
lines. I fear that I should not have done amiss had I taken 
this liberty more frequently. It is, however, incumbent on 
me to give the original with a literal translation : — 



'828 NOTES. 

Weh denen die auf dich vertraiin, an dich 
Die sich're Hiitte ihres Glilckes lehnen, 
Gelockt von deiner gastlichen Gestalt! 
Schnell, unverhofft, bei niichtlich stiller Weile 
Gahrt's in dem tiick'schen Feuersclilunde, ladet 
Sich aus mit tobender Gewalt, und weg 
Treibt iiber alle Pflanzungen der Menschen 
Der wilde Strom in grausamer Zerstorung. 

WALL EN STEIN. 

Du schilderst deines Vaters Herz. Wie du's 
Beschreibst so ist's in seinem Eingeweide, 
In dieser schwarzen Heuchlers-Brust gestaltet. 
mich hat Hollenkunst getauscht ! Mir sandte 
Der Abgrund den verstecktesten der Geister, 
Den liigekundigsten herauf, und stellt' ihn 
Als Freund an meine Seite. Wer vennag 
Der Holle Macht zu widerstehn ! Ich zog 
Den Basilisken auf an meinem Busen, 
Mit meinem Herzblut niihrt ich ihn, er sog 
Sich schwelgend veil an meiner Liebe Briisteu, 
Ich hatte nimmer Arges gegen ihn, 
Weit offen liess ich des Gedankens Thore, 
Und warf die Schlilssel weiser Vorsicht yvQgj 
Am Sternenhimmel, &c. 

LITERAL TRANSLATION. 

Alas ! for those who place their confidence on thee, against 
thee lean the secure hut of their fortune, allured by thy hos 
pitable foi-m. Suddenly, unexpectedly, in a moment still as 
night, there is a fermentation in the treacherous gulf of fire; 
it discharges itself with raging force, and away over all the 
plantations of men drives the wild stream in frightful devas- 
tation. 

WALLENSTEIN. 

Thou art portraying thy father's heart. As thou de- 
ecribest, even so is it shaped in his entrails, in this black 



NOTES. 329 

hypocrite's breast. 0, the art of hell has deceived me ! The 
abyss sent up to me the most spotted of the spirits, the most 
skilful in lies, and placed him as a friend at my side. Who 
may withstand the power of hell ! I took the basilisk to my 
bosom, with my heart's blood I nourished him; he sucked 
himself glut-full at the breasts of my love. I never har 
boured evil towards him ; wide open did I leave the door of 
my thoughts; I threw away the key of wise foresight. In 
the starry heaven, «Scc. 

We find a difiiculty in believing this to have been written 
by Schiller. 



The following notes are from the pen of the late lamented 
Mrs. H. N. Coleridge, the editor's sister, who was engaged in 
an examination of the translation of Wallenstein with a view 
to this edition, which she did not live to complete : — 

Note 1. 

About a year and a half ago, a writer in " The Westminster 
Review " undertook to prove that the world had been mis- 
taken all those years — from 1800 to 1850, that is, half a cen 
tury — in imagining that it had obtained from the pen of 
Coleridge a translation of Schiller's Wallenstein, creditable 
to English literature, both from its poetical merit, and its 
general fidelity to the spirit of the original work. On the 
contrai-y, this critic, who signs himself G. H. E., endeavours 
to show that " it would have been better for the poet, for the 
reader, and for the credit of the translator, had Mr. C. re- 
frained from meddling with the work, or confined himself to 
the task of a faithful interpretation." 

In pursuance of this enterprise, he brings forward a cer- 
tain number of unquestionable en-ors in the sense of the 
German; errors, doubtless, well known from the first to stu- 
dents of Scluller, and admirers of Coleridge, (that the report 
of them reached the German author himself, together with 
the first news that his noble play had been done into English, 



330 NOTES. 

we are ciedibly informed by one who had a personal acquaint- 
ance with him,) and which have not been hiiherto generally 
supposed to ])ievent Mr. Coleridge's version from being, on 
the whole, a highly meritorious performance. Of these errors 
we shall proceed to lay a list before the reader; premising, 
however, that the greater number of substitutions to be found 
in Mr. C.'s pages are not, as G. H. E. pronounces them, mere 
imbecility and verbiage, but contain a sufficiently pertinent 
meaning, and make up, in a homelier livehuess, what they 
lack of Schiller's sedate dignity — that of >ome others the 
worst that can be said is, that tlic meaning is strained and 
far-sought; and that tliere are but a few instances in which, 
it must be confessed, tlie translator has trespassed against 
good sense, as well as forgotten the German language : — 

" Brimful of poetry, o'er the briny ocean, homo 
Soon he fell a nodding — at our house at home. 
Kid nid nodding — at our house at home." 

Note 2. 

We now proceed to give a list of verbal errors in Mr. Cole- 
ridge's version : tlie translation has remained entirely unal- 
tered from the first edition to the last. 

West. Review, July, 1850. Art. 3. 
Page 353: " Der Posten," rendered " travelling-bills," in- 
stead of an "item " or " article in an account." 

Picc, ScH., Col. — Act i. Scene 2. 

Page 353: " Geschmeidig" " pliant," mistaken for " gesch- 
tniedet," " hammered out." 

Picc, ScH., Col. — Act i. Scene 4. 

Pages 356-7 : " Jagdzug," rendered " hunting-dress," instead 
of" hunting-stud." Picc, Sen., Col.— ^d i. Scene 9. 

Page 358 : " Das holde Kind ! " translated " The voice of my 
child! " a bold substitution for " Tlie charming child." 

Picc, Scu., Col..— Act i. Scene 8. 



NOTES. 331 

Page 360: "Was dennV" "What then?'' instead of 
" What? " Picc, ScH., Coi..—Act ii. Scene 7. 

Page 361: " 1st unser Glaub' um Kanzel und Altar," ren- 
dered " Our faith hangs upon the pulpit and altar," instead 
of " is without pulpit and altar." 

Picc, Sch., Col. — Act ii. Scene 12, 

Page 362: " Losung," " watchword," mistaken for "Erlo- 
sung," " redemption." 

Sch., Wall., Coh.— Act iv. Scene!. 

Page 365 : " Verstecktesten " most secret," mistaken for 
" beflecktesten," " most spotted." Notes, p. 328. 



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